


Cherry Wine

by happytreasure



Series: Thick and Thin [2]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: (not by richie), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Break Up, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Eventual Happy Ending, Gender Dysphoria, Getting Back Together, Hate Sex, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Misgendering, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Post-Break Up, Rape Recovery, Rough Sex, Self-Discovery, Sexual Content, Substance Abuse, Suicide Attempt, Trans Male Character, its really really sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-06-14 06:11:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15382419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happytreasure/pseuds/happytreasure
Summary: After an explosive break up Eddie and Richie realize they don't really know who they are without each other. They both scramble to find themselves, making damaging choices along the way. With burning hatred between them it seems that picking up the pieces of their broken relationship is impossible. Little do they realize how heavy a price they'll have to pay to mend their broken hearts.





	1. Angel of Small Death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Naive_Archivist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naive_Archivist/gifts).



There’s a dull ache in Eddie’s chest that he knows is from wearing his binder for what will be twelve hours straight in a few minutes. There was no volleyball practice this Sunday, meaning Eddie actually had to face reality instead of throwing himself into volleyball as a distraction.

  
Eddie absolutely refuses to acknowledge the fact that he struggles to deal with his dysphoria without Richie. He’s fine without Richie; he’s more than his fucked up ex. Or at least that’s what he tells himself. 

The silence is deafening. Eddie wonders if that’s because Richie was always so loud. Fuck Richie. The asshole is probably off somewhere getting high and fucking one of the pretty, tall models that are always hanging off him in Instagram photos.

His phone buzzes, catching his attention and he easily accepts the distraction.

  
Bev♡: hey me and ben are going to a party tonight, wanna come? maybe some drinking and dancing will get your mind off things

  
Usually Eddie would decline and mope around his suffocating room feeling sorry for himself, but he agrees with Bev. Maybe he should take a page out of Richie’s book and rely on a little substance abuse to fix his problems. After he replies saying he’ll go, Beverly informs him to be ready within the hour.

  
Eddie turns to his tiny closet and rummages through his clothes. Most of his shit doesn’t fit into the practically closet sized room he lives in now, but it’s better than living with Richie. After they broke up he moved in with the trio, occupying their tiny guest room.

  
Eddie never dresses modestly when he goes to parties. As far as he’s concerned, college is the perfect time to be a bit of a slut. When Eddie puts on a little more makeup than usual, picks out his shortest shorts and a sheer, tight-fitting crop top, he tells himself it’s because he wants to look good—not because he wants to remind Richie what he’s missing—when he meets Beverly at their apartment.

  
He gets an odd look from Stan when he shuffles out the door in skimpy clothing but he doesn’t comment. 

Eddie definitely isn’t pleased when he finds Richie slumped on the couch when he enters the apartment across the hall. Richie’s eyes go a bit wide when he notices Eddie’s getup. Eddie simply sneers at him.

  
He has a joint in his left hand and for some reason it pisses Eddie off. He’s not sure why. Bev smokes weed—hell, even Eddie’s smoked weed plenty of times. Maybe it’s the faraway look in Richie’s eyes that’s been there as of late or maybe it’s the fact that weed’s no longer the only drug Richie uses.

  
Eddie almost wants to scoff. He had been so naive in believing Richie when he promised he’d never take party drugs again.

 

_“You promised! You promised that you wouldn’t come home high again!” Eddie screamed._

  
_Riche rolled his eyes as if Eddie was being the dramatic one. “Babe, it’s just party drugs, you know—E and shrooms. Nothing serious.”_

  
_Eddie sputters. “Nothing serious?! Richie, you can barely focus on this conversation! What’s next, heroin? Meth?”_

  
_Richie laughs. “Take a chill pill, babe,” he says, ignoring the seriousness of the conversation._

 

  
The clacking of Beverly’s heels coming down the hall are what pulls Eddie from his thoughts. She easily notices the tension between the two of them and ushers Eddie out the door.

  
“We’ll be home late, Rich, no parties!” she teases.

 

 

-

 

 

Eddie supposes the guy talking him up is cute. He’s charming in a way that reminds him of Richie sans all the inappropriate jokes.

  
He has the typical beach boy Cali vibe that Richie always makes fun of, but Eddie doesn’t really mind. He looks good and besides, he’s sweet.

  
“So, Garrett,” he begins. “What’s your major?”

  
“Oh, I’m an engineering major, what about you?”

  
“Nursing,” Eddie replies, “and I play on the volleyball team.”

  
“Yeah, I’ve seen you play. You’re really talented,” he compliments.

Eddie’s surprised to feel his cheeks heat up. “Oh, thank you,” he says softly.

  
Garrett opens his mouth to respond, but Eddie suddenly feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns to see Ben looking a little frazzled.

  
“Bev’s more than drunk and we should probably get home,” Ben says.

  
Eddie nods and turns back to Garrett, giving him a sympathetic look. “I should probably get going.”

  
Garrett fumbles with his phone. “Can I have your number?”

  
Eddie hesitates; he’s never really given his number out to a boy. He purses his lips before deciding he needs to start living a little more.

  
He smiles at the boy sitting across from him. “Sure,” he says, taking the offered phone and entering his number.

  
“Thanks. Talk later?” Garrett says hopefully.

  
Eddie’s shocked by the butterflies in his stomach. “Yeah, definitely.”

 

 

-

 

 

Richie thinks about him a lot when he’s high. He’s never really known why he does the things he does. It’s all so tempting—the flashing lights, the colored pills, the drug-happy faces.

  
It was just so easy to get caught up in. As much as people glorify it, becoming famous is stressful. Everybody feels free to give their opinion on his life choices now. They want to tell him how to dress, how to act. Can Eddie really blame him for wanting something to take the edge off?

  
It’s a bitter taste in his mouth when he thinks of Eddie. So what if Richie came home high one too many times? Besides, what better time to make mistakes than your early twenties? Eddie really just has a stick up his ass.

  
Still, that doesn’t stop the pain that comes with having his heart ripped out of his chest. Nothing could’ve prepared him from waking up groggy on the couch and finding out Eddie had moved all his stuff to the trio’s spare room.

  
Who the fuck breaks up with someone without telling them? Eddie Kaspbrak, apparently.

  
Richie’s head feels horribly dizzy and he knows he should probably find his way home, but the VIP lounge of high end clubs is more familiar than his own bed right now. Especially without Eddie.

  
God, he’s pathetic.

  
His fingers are shaking and he’s not sure what he’s doing with his life anymore. Honestly, sometimes Richie just wants to float away.

  
He’s brought back to attention by one of the made up D-list models that are always in the clubs. “Hey, Richie,” she coos. “Wanna try something new?”

  
Richie’s always down for something that will make him forget about Eddie. He gives her an award-winning grin. “Of course, baby, whatcha got?”

  
She flashes a tiny blue pill in her hand before sticking it in the center of her tongue. Richie indulges her, licking into her mouth and stealing the pill. He swallows before he continues messily making out with her

This is usually how his nights end. In someone else’s bed, waking up the next morning half regretful and half ashamed.

 

 

-

 

 

 

Eddie looks in the mirror and steels his nerves. Beverly keeps telling him that he doesn’t have to go on this date. He can simply cancel. But Eddie has to— he has to prove to himself that he’s something outside of Richie, that he can function without him.

  
The struggle that comes with not having Richie by his side makes him what to pull his hair out. He just can’t accept that all his growth stemmed from him. If things work out with Garrett, then Eddie can tell himself that his comfort with Richie was just due to familiarity. If things work out with Garrett, then Eddie can tell himself that Richie isn’t the only one for him.

  
He looks himself over in the mirror once more. The jeans and converse are usual enough, but the light blue blouse feels foreign. Eddie doesn’t let his mind dwell on the fact that he’s playing dress up for this date. So what if Garrett doesn’t know he’s a boy? This is something Eddie needs to do, he needs to prove this point to himself, that he can function in other relationships that don’t involve Richie.

  
He takes a deep breath and walks out the door, prepared to meet Garrett for their first date.

 

 

-

 

 

His teammates give him pitying looks as he undresses for the shower. He’s heard their whispers a million times and he wishes they would just shut the fuck up. Richie and he broke up months ago, yet still their words filter through the locker room.

  
_“I don’t understand. Who breaks up with a celebrity?”_

  
_“She must have a big fucking ego to think she’s too good for him.”_

  
_“And he treated her so well. Ungrateful bitch.”_

  
Eddie wants to scream. Before Richie got big, his teammates would shit on him for dating a bi boy, say Eddie had settled, that Richie was a total douchebag, but now that he’s in the limelight they’re prepared to worship the ground he walks on.

  
Eddie hastily pulls on his clothes and tries to refrain from storming out of the locker rooms.

  
He takes in the empty gym and refuses to let himself think about all the times Richie would walk him back to the dorms after practice. Sometimes Beverly comes, but it’s not often.

  
In fact, Eddie feels more alienated from his friends than he ever has before. They, of course, all can’t hang out together because Eddie and Richie can’t coexist.

  
So, their hangouts become less and less. And as much as Eddie understands why they sometimes don’t invite him or Richie at all, it doesn’t negate the sting that comes with being excluded.

  
He can’t blame them. It’s Richie and Eddie’s fault that the group is divided, and it’d be even more unfair if the losers invited just one of them and not the other.

  
So Eddie understands, he truly does. But regardless of how well he understands their intentions, it doesn’t stop him from feeling like he’s still somehow attached to Richie.

Eddie knows he’s his own person, but it’s hard to feel that way when even after they’ve broken up they’re still “Eddie and Richie” or “Richie and Eddie.” Sure, that was fine when Eddie was so in love it hurt, but now that he’s alone he’s beginning to realize he never really learned how to just be Eddie. College is supposed to be an opportunity for Eddie to find himself, yet the first thing he did was find someone else.

As much as Eddie hates to admit it, he probably leaned on Richie more than he should have, because without him everything is so exhausting.

He makes his way to the bus station and sighs. Sometimes he finds himself wishing he could have a do-over. He wouldn’t rely on Richie for everything, he’d be more independent, more himself, he wouldn’t let himself become so consumed by his relationship.

  
He wonders if maybe that’s why things blew up in his face. The moment he didn’t have Richie to lean on constantly he faltered. He supposes Richie was the same. The less Eddie was on top of him, the more he came home high.

When he finally makes it to his apartment building, and eventually his room, he plops on his bed and groans.

As much as he wants to deny it, he’s still heartbroken. The fact that he’s still in love makes Eddie all the more desperate for a second chance.

  
A stupid little hopeful voice in the back of his head tells him that if Eddie could go back and do it all over again he’d learn to be someone outside of Richie, and none of this would have ever happened.

  
But Eddie’s all too aware that do-overs aren’t possible, so he stomps down that little voice and labels it as wishful thinking.

 

 

-

 

 

Eddie swings his legs underneath the table and sips at his chocolate milk. He’s at Waffle House with Mike, where they’re trying to nurse their hangovers.

  
The others—sans Richie—are still piled in their beds, sleeping off last night.

  
Eddie shovels some hash browns into his mouth. He’s avoiding eye contact with Mike. He knows all of his best friend’s expressions. Right now he’s wearing his ‘I want to have a talk’ face.

  
“So, how’s Garrett?” Mike says nonchalantly, cutting a sausage link in half.

  
Eddie shrugs. “Okay.”

  
Mike raises an eyebrow. “Are you guys going steady?”

Eddie shrugs again. “I dunno, I’m just keeping things casual right now,” he explains.

“That’s not like you,” Mike comments.

Eddie frowns. “Well, I guess it’s time for a change, huh? I need to be someone outside my relationships.”

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno, I feel like I never learned how to deal with things myself. I relied on Richie too much—not saying leaning on your partner is a bad thing, but I think I let it consume me,” Eddie says.

  
Mike nods in understanding. “You two were very wrapped up in each other. That’s very mature of you, Eddie. I think it’s smart to work on yourself outside of your partners. I mean, Bill and Stan have interests and friend groups outside of me and each other and I think that’s healthy,” he says sagely.

  
“Yeah, that’s what I mean. Richie and I never really branched out. Obviously, that wasn’t the biggest problem in our relationship, just something I realized after we broke up,” he continues.

Mike smiles. “I’m proud of you, Eddie.”

Eddie doesn’t mention that he’s only entertaining Garrett because he still feels like he can’t function in a relationship that’s not with Richie.

  
Mike breaks the silence that’s settled around them. “We’re worried about him, ya know. He’s almost never home.”

  
Eddie knows who he’s talking about. Richie’s been driving the other losers up the wall with his bad habits. “That’s unfortunate,” he says stiffly.

  
“Eddie—“

  
Eddie swiftly cuts him off. “I’d rather not talk about him, Mike.”

  
Mike sighs and nods. “At least you seem to be adjusting well.”

  
Eddie gives Mike a forced smile. If only he knew.

 

 

-

 

 

He’s lying on his bed, head hanging off the edge. His guitar is laying on his chest.

Richie wonders why he does it. Why he’s so easily drawn to things that are bad for him. Eddie had him down to a cigarette a day by month six and Richie had been clean since. Well, at least up until the break up.

Now Richie’s up to a box a day, but really, cigarettes are the least of his concerns with what Richie puts into his body these days.

  
Bill’s not gonna be his personal healthcare provider like he was in high school, and Eddie’s no longer around, meaning Richie’s spiraling. He wonders how he made it to age twenty without learning how to take care of himself.

  
He’s supposed to be producing new music, that’s what the record label wants, but Richie lost his muse when he lost Eddie.

  
There’s a soft knock on his door.

  
“Come in,” Richie calls.

  
Beverly pokes her head through the door. “We got Chinese take out from your favorite place,” she says.

Richie shrugs. “I’ll have to pass, I’m not hungry.”

  
Beverly frowns. Richie can tell she’s cracking through his façade more and more each day. She lets his excuse slide and closes the door behind herself.

  
Richie’s not hungry much these days anyway.

 

  
-

 

 

Eddie’s being plagued by a reoccurring dream again.

  
When he was a kid, he dreamt that he was peering into a mirror, disheartened by his long hair. He took the scissors on the counter and decided to cut his hair. However, when the tool couldn’t cut through his hair, dream-Eddie decided to test its sharpness on the pale skin of his inner wrists.

  
The dream he’s having now is similar. Except now when he looks in the mirror, he’s shirtless. He cringes at his breasts and looks down at the counter. Sitting there is a large kitchen knife. In the dream-world, Eddie doesn’t listen to logic, and the second he sees the sharp object he thinks about cutting off the unwanted flesh.

  
His hands don’t shake as he brings the knife to the underside of the breast. Without hesitation, he digs the knife into the soft skin. Suddenly black, goopy blood pours from his wound. He doesn’t get very far before his hands are covered in the dark, acidic liquid. When Eddie pulls his hand back it’s been burnt down to the bone.

  
As the burning goo trails down his chest and eats away at skin and organs he realizes he’ll never be free of the burden that he carries around every day.

 

-

 

  
Richie sways back and forth. His head feels so foggy, and he pushes through the crowd and up to the VIP lounge. Once he finds an empty couch, he slumps down on it.

He’s not sure how much time passes before he sees a figure appear in front of him. They snap their fingers in front of Richie’s face. His eyes finally focus in on them and his stomach immediately lurches.

In front of him stands Lily. Richie wants to ask how she even got up to the VIP lounge, but knowing her, she probably gave the bouncer a blowjob or actually managed to sneak in. Richie wouldn’t put either past her.

  
“Hi, Lily,” he says tiredly.

  
She must take his greeting as an invitation because she plops down next to him. Richie’s flight or fight instinct usually would’ve kicked in by now, but he’s so high he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t even make a move to get away if Lucifer himself popped a squat next to him.

  
“Hey, Rich, I hear you’re back on the market,” she says cheekily.

  
Richie rolls his eyes, and doesn’t answer. Lily smirks, pulls out a small orange pill bottle, and pours a few tablets into her hand. She offers him some.

  
Richie looks at it warily. “What is it?”

  
“Codeine,” she replies. “It’s just a pain killer.”

  
Richie shrugs his shoulders. Surely anything Lily’s giving him can’t be any worse than what he’s already taken

He sticks his hand out and she places the pills in it. He sighs and pops the pills in his mouth, dry swallowing.

  
He throws his head back on the leather couch.

  
Come what may, he supposes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM GONNA CRY LISTEN THIS IS GONNA BE SO FUCKING SAD AHHHH IM READY TO BREAK HEARTS
> 
> thank god for izzy @beepbeepbitchard on tumblr for betaing this bullshit
> 
> my tumblr- happytreasure
> 
> pls leave a comment and tell me what you think


	2. Rather Let You Fall Apart

When Richie wakes up his head is pounding. He groans and clutches his head. He doesn’t even want to begin to think about the fucked up shit he probably did last night.

  
However, it all comes crashing back to him when he rolls over and sees Lily laying on her side, looking at him with a giddy expression.

  
Richie curses sharply and runs a hand down his face. With their current state of undress, it doesn’t take much for him to deduce that they probably slept together.

  
“Hey, baby,” she coos, “hope you slept well.”

 

“Lily, this doesn’t mean anything. This was a drunken one night stand, that’s it,” he says firmly.

 

“Well then, you probably should have thought about that before you fucked me without a condom on, huh?” she says smugly.

 

Richie feels his blood run cold as she slips out of bed, pulls on some underwear and leaves the room.

  
God knows how high he must’ve been to have unprotected sex. He wouldn’t put it past Lily to get him drugged up enough that he’d fuck her without a condom, but his mind really doesn’t wanna go down that road. Regardless, the last thing Richie is ready to do is raise a child.

  
He reluctantly swings his legs over the bed and sits up. He pushes his hair out of his face and looks around the room. He starts getting dressed, knowing that the longer he stays, the more trouble it’ll cause.

  
He’s putting his belt on when he notices a condom hanging out of the trashcan. It takes little further inspection to realize it’s recently used. 

 

He yanks on his shirt and makes sure he has his wallet and phone before stomping out of the room.

 

Lily smiles when he walks into the kitchen. He just glares at her.

 

“Next time you want to be a psychotic, lying bitch, at least do a better job of hiding the evidence,” he seethes.

  
He doesn’t give her a chance to respond. Instead, he rushes out of the front door, unable to take another second of being near her.

  
Once he’s far enough away, he slinks into an empty alleyway and pulls out a cigarette. The awful burn in his lungs makes the concept of sleeping with his abuser a little easier to accept.

  
He's noticed he smokes more when he feels alone which is most of the time these days. It hadn't started out like that.

 

  
_The flashing lights hurt Richie's eyes. He's trying to sip his drink slowly. If he gets wasted he's more likely to come home high, and he really doesn't wanna do that to Eddie again. It hard going out every night and quite literally partying like a rockstar. He'd much rather be at home with Eddie. His manager had been pissed when Richie said he was already in a relationship, and even more displeased when Richie informed him that Eddie wanted to stay out of the public eye._

  
_It's lonely going to events on his own. Sweaty bodies pushing against him and alcohol aren't as enjoyable when he's not with his friends. Well, it's not fun unless he's high. Usually some E will pick up his mood. He knows it's a dangerous road to go down, but sometimes the loneliness wins over. He knows he could convince Eddie to start going to events with him, but he'd never do that do him. Eddie's been getting so much better at dealing with his dysphoria and Richie doesn't want to feed him to the wolves. He's heard stylists gush about what dresses they'd love to put Eddie in._

  
_"Hey, Rich?" A voice says, pulling him from his thoughts._

  
_He turns to see one of the new actresses he'd been introduced to earlier. She gives him a smile and shows him the small colored pills in her hand. Richie wants to decline, but there's a pressure that comes with it._

  
_He sighs. It's still early in the night, maybe he'll sober up before he comes home._

  
_He flashes the girl a grin and accepts the pills. "Thanks, darling."_

 

-

 

“Richie, fucking calm down!” Beverly yells.

  
Richie can’t possibly calm down. His entire world has been shit since he’s broken Eddie’s trust. He can’t earn it back; he can tell by the way Eddie looks at him like he’s scum.

  
He chucks another mug at the wall, relishing in the satisfying noise of ceramic shattering. He doesn’t know why he’s doing what he’s doing. Maybe he just wants to see something as broken as he is.

Richie grabs another mug from the cabinet, and rears back, prepared to smash it.

  
“NO, RICHIE, NOT THAT ONE!” Beverly screams.

  
Richie ignores her frantic plea and chucks the offending object at the wall like its predecessors.

  
“Richie, you piece of shit, Ben’s dad gave him that mug!” she seethes.

  
Riche suddenly feels nauseous. Everyone in their friend group knows that Ben’s dad died when he was young.

  
He quickly spins around and dry heaves into the sink. There’s nothing in his stomach to throw up. There never is.

  
“God, you’re a real piece of work without Eddie to control you, huh?” she snaps, collecting the broken pieces of glass on the kitchen floor.

  
Something about that gets under Richie’s skin. “Oh, fuck you, Bev,” he hisses. “I’m a person outside of Eddie! I’m twenty fucking years old and I’ve spent most that time without him.”

  
Beverly turns around and sneers. “You’re right, Richie, you’re twenty years old, so start acting like it. Grow the fuck up.”

With that she stomps out of the kitchen.

  
Richie’s hands are shaking. He can’t remember what he took this morning, but his veins feel like they’re on fire. He’s hasn’t felt anger like this since he was dating Lily. It’s an uncontrollable type of anger—anger that comes from feeling overwhelmingly alone and helpless.

 

  
-

 

_“God, baby, you’re so beautiful,” Richie breathes._

  
_Eddie scrunches up his nose and gives his boyfriend a look of disagreement._

  
_It’s early in the morning and they’re both still a little groggy. Richie had decided to wake Eddie up that morning by grinding his hardon against his ass._

  
_It quickly delved into the sweet, soft morning sex that they’re having now. Eddie can feel how flushed his skin is. Richie’s fully seated inside him with Eddie’s legs propped up on his thighs. He’s not leaning down to cover Eddie’s body with his own as he usually does. Instead he’s sitting up, looking at Eddie’s spread out body with such admiration and awe that Eddie starts squirming._

  
_“What? Don’t agree? Because we can’t be looking at the same Eds if you don’t think you’re gorgeous,” he says softly._

 

_“Why are you staring?” Eddie says, deflecting Richie’s previous comment._

 

_Richie grins, grinding his hips forward and trailing kisses up Eddie’s naked body. “Because you’re so beautiful that sometimes it just takes my breath away,” he murmurs._

_Eddie holds Richie close. “You’re too good to me, Richie.”_

  
_Richie gives him a slightly sad look that catches Eddie off guard. “No angel, I’ll never be good enough.”_

 

Eddie wakes up in a cold sweat, tears already in his eyes.

 

Already anger is thrumming through his veins. Why can’t he get over Richie? He wants to hate him, he wants to never dream about his stupid face again.

 

But instead of hating Richie over all the times he came home high and gave him worry-induced panic attacks, deep down Eddie just feels bad.

  
It was so easy to leave Richie when he was acting that way. All his friends understood why he did it.

  
But Richie wasn’t even himself at that point, was he? Eddie wonders if it makes him a bad person that when the going got tough, he ran, instead of giving his everything to help Richie with his addiction.

  
Another part of him feels totally justified. Richie was horribly neglectful towards the end of their relationship. Eddie had reasons to leave.

  
He lets out a shaky breath slips out of bed. Hopefully a cup of tea will put him back to sleep.

  
Eddie rarely sleeps through the night these days.

 

-

 

 

Eddie digs his nails into his thigh. He has to face facts. At this point in their relationship, Eddie’s probably considered Garrett’s girlfriend. Still, Eddie hides behind the fact that he’s never been officially asked out.

  
He just gotten back from Garrett’s apartment. His heart is still threatening to beat out of his chest.

  
For some reason making out with Garrett made him want to crawl out of his skin. He didn’t kiss like Richie, he didn’t hold him like Richie.

  
And when Garrett tried to dip his hands underneath Eddie’s shorts he panicked and made up a rushed excuse to go home. Garrett doesn’t know what he likes, what he needs. He thinks Eddie’s just some girl.

  
He lays back on his bed and groans. Maybe he just misses Richie for his body. Not that Eddie has anything to compare it to, but the sex was good.

  
He lays a hand on his stomach, still worked up. Richie always knew just what Eddie needed in bed. Even when their relationship was suffering in every other department the sex was still amazing.

  
He sighs, angry at himself for still wanting Richie when he could probably be fucking another guy.

  
Well, maybe there’s nothing wrong with that. People have no-strings-attached sex all the time. In fact, Eddie’s heard his teammate Sidney talking about having hate sex with her ex. She mentioned absolutely loathing him, but the sex was so good that she kept sleeping with him anyway.

  
Eddie hums, sitting up in bed. Hate sex. That could work. It doesn’t have to mean he wants Richie back—the word hate is in the term.

  
Before he really knows what he’s doing, he’s marching across the hallway. He opens the door to find Richie standing in the kitchen half naked. He almost breathes a sigh of relief when he meets Richie’s eyes and they look focused and clear.

  
When he’s given an annoyed look, Eddie realizes he probably should’ve come up with a plan. After all, Richie doesn’t need him for sex.

  
“What do you want?” Richie asks, leaning back against the counter.

 

Eddie can feel his cheeks heat up as he stands in the middle of the living room.

  
“What? Cat got your tongue, darling?” Richie taunts, walking closer to Eddie.

  
Richie’s somehow easily deciphered Eddie’s reasoning for coming over. Eddie wants to loathe Richie’s uncanny ability to know whenever he’s in the mood, but then again, he doubts he would have been able to work up the courage to actually get the words out. He briefly wonders if he has a tell.

  
“Don’t call me that,” Eddie snaps.

  
Richie towers over him, looking smug. “Would you rather I call you something else? Slut? Whore? Easy?”

 

Eddie clamps his mouth shut, scared that if he talks his words will come out breathy and desperate. Richie, of course, picks up on this.

  
Eddie quells his urge to smack Richie’s hand away when it settles under his chin, forcing his head up so he’s looking him in the eyes.

  
Richie’s pupils are dilated and Eddie can feel his hot breath against his neck as he leans down.

  
“Sorry, baby, didn’t mean to ruin everyone else for you,” he says casually, licking a stripe up Eddie’s neck and scraping his teeth along the sensitive flesh.

  
Eddie’s breath hitches. He watches as Richie leans back and gives him a smirk before walking away, heading to his bedroom.

  
Eddie doesn’t move for a few moments, completely shocked before he’s stomping after Richie. Where the fuck does Richie get off? Sure, Eddie wants Richie to fuck his brains out, but he doesn’t want Richie to know that.

  
Once he gets to the doorway of the bedroom he finds Richie casually laying on his bed. He approaches until his knees hit the mattress.

 

“What’s up, buttercup?” he asks.

 

Eddie glares. “Finish what you fucking started.”

  
“Awh, baby, did I get you all worked up?” he taunts.

 

Eddie balls his fists, hating himself for being turned on by the way Richie’s talking to him.

  
“Are you gonna fuck me ‘til I can’t walk or not?” Eddie hisses.

 

Richie’s eyes go wide for a moment before he gives Eddie such a predatory look that a shudder runs through his body.

 

It’s not like before when he wanted Richie to press kisses all over his body and tell him how beautiful he is. Now he wants Richie to hold him down and put him in his place and he has no idea why.

  
Before he can really process it, he’s being tugged onto the bed and manhandled onto his stomach.

  
Richie places one large hand on the center of his back as he leans down to whisper in Eddie’s ear.

  
He scoffs. “You’re fucking pathetic, Eddie. Running back to me because you’ve realized no one’s ever gonna fuck you as good as I do.”

  
Eddie grits his teeth. He doesn’t want to let Richie know that he’s probably right. Thinking about sex with anyone else makes his skin crawl, and he can’t figure out why.

  
Richie practically tears off his shorts and crudely pushes his panties to the side. Eddie gasps when Richie fingers skim over him, collecting the slick and teasing his hole.

 

“Only took a few words to get your pussy wet, you’re so easy, aren’t you?”

 

Eddie’s breath hitches at the word. Richie’s never used it before, not because Eddie’s ever told him not to, probably just because it felt like going too far.

  
But now, when Richie has Eddie’s face shoved into the mattress, uncaring of Eddie's emotions, it makes him feel dirty, and that’s exactly what he wants.

  
Richie pulls him onto his knees by the back of his shirt. He sucks an incriminating hickey onto his neck. Eddie knows he should probably tell Richie to keep the marks below his collar bones, but he couldn’t get the words out even if he wanted to. 

Richie roughly tugs Eddie shirt over his head, and then easily unclasps Eddie’s bra before roughly pushing him back down into the mattress.

  
Eddie shudders, feeling exposed. He keeps his face buried in the pillow, refusing to look at Richie. He doesn’t think he could handle Richie’s leering without wanting to beg for it, and Eddie refuses to beg for Richie to fuck him, quite literally on his hands and knees.

  
Richie harshly slides a finger into him, causing him to moan and clench around the sudden intrusion. He hasn’t had sex since they broke up, more than enough time for him to forget how long Richie’s fingers are.

  
“So, no one’s been giving it to you as good as I have, huh? No one stretch your tight little pussy open like me? God, just look how easy you open up for me,” he says, pressing another finger in.

Eddie already feels full—he can’t imagine how big Richie’s cock will feel. He tries to control his breathing, but Richie’s not giving him any time to adjust to his fingers. He feels more overwhelmed than he ever has during sex. He hisses at the slight pain when Richie shoves in a third finger, but a part of him likes that Richie still doesn’t slow down.

  
Eventually Richie’s pulling his fingers out, and dragging his panties down his legs. Eddie listens to him stand up and pull his own pants off before rifling through the bedside drawer for a condom.

  
When Richie lines up his cock he doesn’t ask for reassurance from Eddie, instead starting to press in immediately. It nearly knocks the breath out of him.

  
He’s almost thankful that Richie didn’t stop to ask if he was okay. It would’ve made the situation all too real.

  
Richie groans as he bottoms out and places a firm smack on his ass. “There ya go, slut, take it all like a good boy.”

  
Eddie feels heat pool in his stomach. He’s never felt so dirty, so beneath someone, and right now he can’t say he doesn’t like it.

Richie sets a harsh pace, reaching deep inside Eddie and reminding him very clearly why Richie used to joke that he ‘rearranged Eddie’s guts.’

  
He used to call Richie nasty whenever he claimed he stirred up Eddie’s insides, but now the joke seems awfully fitting.

  
Richie’s never fucked him so harshly, so carelessly. Never held him down and used him for his own pleasure. Eddie arches his back and whimpers.

  
“You’re really something, aren’t you, Eddie?” Richie sneers, “You may hate me, but just remember, no one fucks you as good as I do.”

  
He moves his hands to Eddie’s hips and practically lifts his bottom half off the bed as he slams his cock in and out of him.

  
Eddie whines and grips the pillow underneath his head. He hates how slick is running down his thighs, hates how turned on he is by Richie’s demeaning words.

“Go on,” Richie urges, “get yourself off, because otherwise you’re not coming.”

Eddie’s already so close, but he refuses to give Richie the satisfaction on coming on his cock untouched. He brings a hand to his clit, gasping at how sensitive he feels. He’s so close, the adrenaline and heat feel overwhelming.

  
Suddenly Richie slows his thrusts slightly. “Ya know, I know I’ve said I thought I couldn’t fit anything else in here,” he says conversationally, prodding at where they’re connected. “But with how fucking wet and easy you are, I think it just might fit.”

  
He pushes his thumb in next to his cock and Eddie lets out a high-pitched moan at the stretch. He clenches harshly around Richie as he reaches the edge, barely needing to touch himself to come.

  
Richie slips his thumb out and continues his relentless pace. Eddie can tell he’s close and it’s only a few thrusts later that he’s grinding his hips against Eddie’s ass, spilling inside the condom.

  
The second the high is over Eddie tenses up. Richie quickly notices the change he slides out of Eddie with little tact.

  
Eddie immediately rolls off the bed, refusing to meet Richie’s eyes as he hurriedly pulls on his clothes.

  
“Oh, and Eddie?” Richie asks.

  
Eddie turns around to see him, lazily spread out on his bed, still naked.

“Feel free to come back anytime,” he says smugly.

  
Eddie huffs and stomps out of the room, refusing to treat Richie with a response.

 

-

 

 

Eddie tells himself that fucking Richie was a moment of weakness, a lapse of judgement, but he does little to prove himself right because he finds himself in Richie’s bed practically every other day after that.

  
Eddie wonders why Richie using him suddenly gets him off so easily. Maybe he’s just that fucked up. Or maybe Richie’s right: Eddie’s only satisfied by him.

  
At first, he feels immensely guilty because technically he’s cheating on Garrett, but after he makes a joke about a trans girl on campus Eddie stops feeling bad.

  
God, he really needs to break up with him.

  
He knows damn well he won’t work up the nerve himself, so it’s probably best that he finds someone who will get his ass in gear.

So, Eddie slips on some jean shorts and a t-shirt and makes his way over to Beverly’s apartment across the hall.

  
When he opens the door, Beverly’s sitting on the couch, happily eating some ravioli.

  
“Eddie-baby,” she says with a smile.

  
Eddie gives her a forced smile back but she easily sees through it. 

 

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

 

Eddie sighs. “I need you to convince me to break up with Garrett,” he reveals.

  
Beverly looks relieved. “Oh, thank God. Listen, Eddie he’s no good for you,” she tells him

 

Eddie knows that well enough.

  
Beverly pats the spot next to her on the couch. “Come, sit, you’ve come to the right place, my friend,” she says.

  
Eddie smiles. He can count on Beverly for anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theres hate sex now bc apparently idk how to write a fic without porn, also heads up next chapter is gonna rip your fucking hearts out js, pls dont hate me  
> also here you can see more Richies side of the story
> 
> thank izzy @beepbeepbitchard for editing this hoe 
> 
> pls leave me some feedback below for some motivation :,)
> 
> my tumblr - happytreasure


	3. Help Me Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FAT WARNING FOR THIS ONE LADS

Eddie huffs as he runs another lap around the track. Usually, warm-up consisted of three laps, but Coach was “feeling generous” today, so she told them to run five.

  
Eddie left his makeshift therapy session with Beverly feeling better than he had in a while. 

He’s more than ready to break up with Garrett, but decided to wait until the weekend, when he actually has the time to see him.

  
Eddie’s grateful he did a few seasons of track in high school. He’s easily still leading the pack on the last lap.

  
By the time they actually get inside and start practice, Eddie’s more than warm. He’d been hoping for a smooth practice, but it didn’t seem like that’d be the case. The team’s been struggling to connect and work as a unit since last year’s seniors left. A few of those girls really held the team together.

  
Eddie curses as he watches the freshman libero shank a ball to her right. He runs after it but it’s way out of his reach.

The coach sighs. “Alright. That’s it, get your asses on the track. Go run until you puke,” she orders.

  
Eddie groans. Their coach isn’t the joking type. A few of them will definitely vomit before she lets them go.

  
Eddie ends up throwing up five minutes before practice finishes, leaving him pissy.

  
Despite his aversion to germs and sickness lessening significantly once he started college, he still can’t stop the slight panic that falls over him after he pukes.

  
After he showers, he aggressively brushes his teeth until his gums bleed. Anger and frustration are still thrumming through his veins. Eddie decides with finality that he wants to break something.

  
What better to _break_ than someone you hate?

  
Who better to hurt than Richie?

 

 

-

 

 

Eddie storms into Richie’s apartment, grateful that Beverly and Ben aren’t present to see his dramatic entrance.

  
Richie smirks when he sees Eddie in his doorway. “Here for your daily dosage?”

  
Eddie scoffs. He stomps over to the bed and easily straddles Richie, taking his phone out of his hand and slamming it down on the bedside table.

  
Richie raises an eyebrow. “What’s wrong, sugar? Did I not give it to you good enough last time?” he asks teasingly.

  
Eddie suddenly grabs Richie’s chin in a strong grip. “Don’t patronize me, you piece of shit. I know you like to say how you’re the only cock that’s satisfied me, but news flash, asshole: yours is the only cock I’ve had. But you, Richie, how many people have you slept with? You’ve got to have lost count at this point. It doesn’t matter how many whores or models you bring to bed, you’ll never turn down a chance to fuck me.”

  
Riche sneers but doesn’t say anything, and Eddie grins at his lack of denial.

  
Eddie rocks down against Richie’s already hardening cock. He slides his hand up to Richie’s hair and tugs roughly, making him hiss in pain.

  
They meet in the middle for a messy and rough kiss. Eddie doesn’t stop the constant rock of his hips until he can’t wait anymore.

  
He slides off Richie, who gets the memo and sits up to remove his own shirt. Eddie tells himself that he’s not concerned by how skinny Richie has gotten.

  
He whistles as Eddie shrugs off his hoodie. “Gonna have me a show, babydoll?”

  
Eddie scoffs and wiggles out of his sports bra, balling it up and forcefully shoving it into Richie’s mouth.

  
He begins to slide off his shorts next, annoyed that he can still hear Richie a little too clearly for his liking. He slips off his panties and shoves them into Richie’s mouth as well.

  
Eddie grabs Richie’s wrists and places them above his head so he can grab the headboard rails. 

He smiles sweetly. “Move your hands and there’ll be consequences,” he warns.

  
Eddie’s almost surprised by how lustful a stare Richie gives him. It spurs him on, and he drags his nails down Richie’s chest as he makes his way down to the other boy’s belt.

  
Richie lifts his hips in assistance as Eddie pulls off his belt and tugs his jeans off. Richie’s cock lays against his stomach, fully hard.

Eddie had suspected it while they were dating, but never brought it up. But with how turned on Richie is with red scratch marks on his chest, it’s obvious he’s into pain.

  
Eddie straddles him, sitting up on his knees and dragging the head of Richie’s cock across his wet folds. He can hear his sharp inhale through the makeshift gag.

  
Eddie lets the head brush against his hole. “It’s funny, isn’t it, Richie? I know you like to act like you’re just as satisfied with everyone else, but you’re not, are you?”

  
Richie throws his head back, avoiding eye contact. When he looks back up, Eddie’s gathering the slick from his thighs and using it to stroke Richie’s cock.

  
He lets Richie’s cock rest against the inside of his thigh as he brings a finger to rub at his clit before easily slipping it inside himself.

  
Richie starts talking around the gag, making Eddie roll his eyes. He reluctantly removes the gag when he won’t shut up. “Speak out of turn and I’ll shove that back in your mouth.”

  
Richie looks at him with hooded eyes, stomach muscles taut as he tries not to buck his hips.

  
“You seemed so eager to speak before—what do you have to say?”

  
Richie just bites his lip and stares desperately between Eddie’s legs where he’s still moving his fingers inside himself. He gets this odd sense of pride about making Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier speechless.

“What,” he asks, slipping a second finger inside himself, “you jealous?”

  
Richie doesn’t respond, holding the headboard rails in a death grip.

  
Eddie hums, scissoring his fingers. He knows Richie likes to prep him; he likes the build up, the teasing.

  
Eddie knows it’s driving him a little wild not to have that right now.

  
“Please, please, please, fuck Eddie, I can get so much deeper,” he says.

  
Eddie gives him a sharp look, adding a third finger, rocking his hips down. 

“You wanna help open me up? Be a little less useless than you usually are?”

Richie completely ignores Eddie’s jab and nods his head.

  
“Alright,” he says, moaning slightly as he pulls his fingers out, “arms by your sides.”

  
Richie doesn’t question him, following his directions readily. Eddie positions himself so he’s straddling Richie’s head.

  
“Move your arms and I’ll fucking tie you up,” he threatens.

  
Richie waggles his eyebrows and Eddie glares, harshly grabbing a fistful of hair and lowering his hips so Richie can reach him with his tongue.

  
Eddie gasps sharply as Richie runs the flat of his tongue up the slit until he reaches Eddie’s clit.

  
Eddie groans. All of their sex since the break up has been rushed and fast, meaning he had seriously forgotten how amazing being eaten out is.

  
He tangles both his hands in Richie’s hair, pulling him forward to get more of his tongue. He hums in approval when Richie stiffens his tongue, pushing it inside him.

  
He closes his eyes and holds Richie’s head still as he rocks himself down on his tongue.

  
“Oh, fuck, I swear to god, Richie this is the only thing you were ever good for,” he growls.

  
Eddie gasps as Richie pulls his tongue out, lapping at him before laying the flat of his tongue against him.

  
Eddie lets out breathy moans as he rocks himself down against Richie’s tongue. He can feel his close he is; he just needs a little more to push him over the edge. Suddenly, Richie moves his tongue back up to Eddie’s clit, causing him to let out a high-pitched moan and lean against the headboard.

  
Soft whines escape his lips as he continues to move against Richie’s tongue until his high is over.

Richie surprisingly behaves and stays still. Eddie hums in approval and scoots back down until he’s straddling Richie again.

  
He enjoys the fucked out look on Richie’s face and the way his chin is covered in saliva and slick.

  
“Hands back above your head,” Eddie instructs, going to fetch a condom from the bedside table.

  
He silently opens the condom and rolls it into Richie’s cock. When he looks up at the other boy he’s staring at the ceiling, hands desperately gripping the headboard rails.

  
Eddie lifts his hips, lining Richie’s cock up. “Say a fucking word and I’ll gag you again,” Eddie warns before, dropping himself fully on Richie’s cock, wanting to see him ruined.

  
Richie’s hand flies to Eddie’s hip, squeezing as he tries to process the sudden tight heat surrounding him.

  
Eddie grins, having expected it. He places a firm slap on Richie’s cheek, enjoying how his head whips to the side and his pale skin turns pink.

  
He roughly grabs Richie’s hair. “What did I fucking say?”

  
Richie groans, pulling his hand away. “Not to touch you.”

  
Eddie starts moving his hips in small circles, balancing his hands on Richie’s chest. He enjoys the way Richie whines as he digs his nails in.

  
“Fucking behave yourself or I’ll make you,” he orders.

  
Richie furiously nods his head, gasping and clearly resisting the urge to cant his hips forward as Eddie begins moving up and down on his cock.

  
Eddie moans happily, focusing on his own pleasure and ignoring Richie’s whines.

  
“Fucking hell, you get so deep,” he curses.

  
Richie lets out a particularly loud whine and Eddie notices how closely he’s watching himself move inside Eddie.

  
“Awh, you wish you were fucking me good, baby? You wanna hold me down and watch how wide you stretch me?” he taunts.

  
“Please, please, please, Eddie please, can make you feel so good,” he begs.

Eddie’s surprised by how desperate he sounds. Having so much control over Richie gives him a thrill. He ignores Richie’s plea, feeling himself reach the edge once more. He brings a hand to his clit and cries out as he orgasms, grinding himself down on Richie’s cock.

  
He groans as Richie slides out of him, panting and still hard. Eddie slides off him.

  
“Up,” he commands. “Get on your knees.”

  
Richie scrambles to his knees and Eddie motions for him to move to the end of the bed before positioning himself on his knees and elbows.

  
“Be a good boy and I’ll let you fuck me as hard as you want,” he promises.

  
Richie moans, eyes locked on Eddie who moves a hand between his legs and spreads himself open with two fingers. He teases his hole, letting Richie appreciate the view.

  
“Come here and line yourself up,” he demands.

  
Richie eagerly shuffles forward, pressing the head of his cock to Eddie’s tight hole.

  
“Now fucking beg for it,” he says.

  
“Fuck, Eddie please please, I wanna feel you around me, fuck feel so good,” he babbles.

He’s surprised mostly by Richie’s lack of reluctance. “Good boy, you can use me to get yourself off,” he says.

  
Richie doesn’t waste a second, furiously snapping his hips forward, filling Eddie up in one smooth thrust. He must be close because his thrusts are desperate and erratic as he wildly slams into Eddie.

Eddie grips the pillow under his head tightly as Richie roughly fucks into him. “C’mon Richie, you gonna come or not?” he snaps.

  
Richie honest-to-God whimpers as he spills inside the condom. Eddie allows Richie to rest his head on his shoulder as he comes down from his high. When he takes too long to move, Eddie clenches around his sensitive cock, causing him to pull out with a hiss.

  
He doesn’t look at Richie as he collects his clothes and redresses. He glances back and sees Richie still lying on his back, fucked out smile trained on the ceiling.

  
He tells himself that he enjoyed hurting Richie because he hates him. Not because he knows Richie likes it.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

As he makes his way over to Garrett’s, Eddie has a bad feeling. Regardless, he ignores it and continues.

  
When Garrett answers the door, he has a glass in his hand.

  
“Eddie!” he says happily. “Here, I made you a drink.”

  
Eddie accepts the drink. He doesn’t really want it, but he supposes it’s the least he can do if he’s going to break up with the poor guy.

  
Garrett leads him over to the couch, and Eddie gladly takes a seat, taking a few sips of his drink.

  
“So, what’d you want to talk about?”

  
Eddie rubs his temples, feeling a bit lightheaded. He takes another sip of his drink, thinking maybe he’s dehydrated.

  
“Uh, Garrett, I just...I don’t think this is gonna work out,” he admits.

  
Garrett gives him a sad smile, but he doesn’t look surprised. “Yeah, I kinda figured this was coming.”

  
Eddie cringes. Was he that obvious?

  
“Yeah, I’m sorry, I just...I have a lot on my plate right now,” he replies.

  
Garrett nods, watching as Eddie gulps down the rest of his drink.

  
“That’s okay, I’m still gonna get what I want,” he informs him.

  
Eddie doesn’t really understand what he means by that, but at this point the room’s starting to spin. He tries to stand up but Garrett puts a hand on his shoulder.

  
“You probably shouldn’t move, you’ll hurt yourself,” Garrett says.

  
Eddie shakes his head. “Can you call Bevvy? I don’t think I can walk home,” he slurs.

  
“Don’t worry,” Garrett says, “I’ll take care of you.”

  
Eddie nods, feeling himself relax.

 

 

 

-

 

 

When it’s first over Eddie feels like he can’t move. He takes to wiggling his fingers and toes until he has full control of his limbs.

  
There’s tear tracks on his cheeks but he’s not crying anymore. He refuses to let himself think about what happened. He can’t afford to cry right now.

  
The sound of the shower lets him know Garret’s still in the bathroom. He forces himself to roll off the bed. He crawls around the floor, looking for his scattered clothes

He robotically puts on his clothes, but can’t find his bra and, most importantly, his shoes. He makes his way out of the bedroom and is relieved to find his wallet and phone untouched on the kitchen table.

  
He continues to stumble around, trying to find his shoes. Suddenly he hears the shower turn off.

  
“Eddie?” Garrett calls.

  
Eddie decides some sacrifices have to be made and starts towards the door. He struggles with the lock as he hears Garrett exit to bathroom.

  
“Eddie, where are you?”

  
The door opens and Eddie doesn’t look back. He leans against the wall as he makes his way down the hallway.

  
Garrett must’ve not given him enough of whatever it was he gave him. It was enough to make him dizzy, enough so he couldn’t fight him off. But it wasn’t enough to knock him out. He remembers it. He holds his head as memories of being held down and laughed at race through his mind.

 _Stop,_ he thinks to himself, _I can't think about that right now._

  
His head still feels like it’s spinning as he stumbles out of Garrett’s apartment complex.

Which way does he go to get home again? He nearly trips over his own feet as he chooses a direction.

  
He hears Garrett’s voice. “Eddie?! Eddie, it’s not safe,” he calls.

  
Eddie almost wants to laugh. He quickly ducks behind a dumpster in a nearby alleyway. He watches Garrett pass.

  
He doesn’t stand up immediately, sure that he’ll fall back down if he tries. He blinks his eyes furiously. He can’t pass out here.

  
Suddenly, he feels something warm slide down his thighs. He runs a hand up his leg and is sickened when it comes back bright red.

  
He’s bleeding.

 

He has to keep moving.

  
He uses the dumpster to help himself up, smearing blood on it in the process.

  
He feels like he's walking through a nightmare as he leans heavily against buildings, makes his way down streets. He gets lost on several occasions.

  
Many people give him concerned looks, but no one offers to help. Eddie’s too scared to ask.

  
Eventually he sees his apartment building. He nearly collapses in relief.

  
_I’m almost there,_ he tells himself.

 

 

-

 

 

Richie Tozier is in a bad mood. To be fair he often is. His friends try to help: in fact, they invited him to their little get-together in the trio-plus-Eddie’s apartment.

  
It isn’t anything special, just a little pow-wow with all the Losers—well, all them except Eddie. He’s at his new boyfriend’s tonight, while Richie’s in a two-bedroom apartment writing songs about his broken heart. He has no idea how Eddie moved on so fucking fast, but it feels like a fucking punch to the chest.

  
Eddie’s new boyfriend is an asshole too. The most incomprehensible part to Richie is that Garrett doesn’t even know Eddie’s a boy. A part of Richie thinks Eddie’s just using Garrett to make him jealous. The other part feels kinda bad for him.

  
None of the losers like Garrett either, but Eddie refuses to hear their complaints, claiming they just don’t understand his sense of humor. Richie thinks maybe Eddie’s delirious.

  
Although, Eddie can’t be that happy in his relationship if he’s fucking Richie every other day.

  
He’s pulled from his thoughts by a soft knock on the door. He sighs and gets up from the couch and shuffles to the door. It’s probably Beverly, come to coerce him into their little fun fest.

  
Surprisingly, Eddie’s at the door. Under different circumstances, he probably would’ve dragged him to his bedroom or simply slammed the door in his face.

  
He looks drunk off his ass, with an almost chilling, dazed look in his eyes. He’s leaning heavily on the door frame, like he can barely stand up. His jean shorts are unbuttoned and his shirt is on backwards and Richie can tell he’s not wearing anything underneath. Most notably he’s not wearing shoes—his feet are dirty from what Richie can only assume is walking around outside. He’s surprised when he notices the fresh hickeys and bruises on Eddie’s wrists. He didn’t think he’d put out so fast.

  
“Bevvy?” Eddie calls, stumbling into the apartment, “Bevvy, please.”

  
His words are slurred and Richie’s beginning to wonder if he took something a little too strong at a party.

  
“Woah, Eddie, Beverly’s at your apartment, I can go get her,” he offers.

  
“No!” Eddie protests, “I don’t want the others to know, please...please don’t leave me alone.”

Richie’s almost tempted to ignore his plea and go get Beverly to deal with her drugged up best friend, but Eddie’s voice sounds so desperate.

  
He sighs. “Don’t want the others to know what?”

  
Eddie’s legs give out and he falls to his knees on the middle of the floor.

  
“I told him I wasn’t ready,” he murmurs.

  
Richie furrows his brows. “Eddie, whatever the fuck you’re talking about I don’t want to hear. Just go to your apartment and find Bev.”

  
Eddie doesn’t respond. Instead, he shakily gets to his feet and stumbles into the bathroom. Richie cringes as he hears the telltale sounds of someone puking into a toilet.

  
He tries the door knob, but it’s locked. He hears the toilet flush and then suddenly the sound of someone rummaging through drawers.

  
Richie really does not have the patience to deal with Eddie right now, so he quickly dials up Beverly.

  
“Hello, Miss Marsh, there’s a coked up boy in my apartment that you need to come collect,” he says once she’s picked up.

  
“What’s wrong?” she says quickly.

  
“What’s wrong? Hell if I know, looks like tried to down his weight in vodka after putting out, Garret must be real bad in bed,” he jokes.

Beverly saves the lecture he knows she wants to give and instead promises to be there in a minute.

  
Richie pats himself on the back, deciding he’s down his good deed of the day and slinks back to his room and puts in some headphones.

  
Beverly comes in and he can hear her and Eddie screaming at each other.

  
He turns up his music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry pls dont kill me!!!  
> richie is stupid and oblivious dont hate him  
> and in case i didnt make it 100% clear eddie was drugged and raped by his boyfriend. 
> 
> please leave me a comment telling me what you think!! 
> 
> my tumblr- happytreasure


	4. Sweet as Cherry Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay first off as a note on the last chapter; eddie's rape scene was MEANT to be non-graphic. and Richie genuinely didn't know. when people suffer from drug addiction their sense of reality is constantly warped and i think that's something to keep in mind as you read my characterization of him. richie isnt meant to be a good person right now, but he will redeem himself.
> 
> if youre wondering why i deleted the last chapter and want more info on that there'll be notes at the bottom

 

| 

For some reason Eddie feels like his ears are ringing. He heaves another sob as he listens to Richie’s footsteps walk up to the door. He wants to die. There’s a soreness in between his legs that makes him want to crawl out of his skin. Nothing can ever be the same, nothing can ever be okay again.

_Better work quick; Beverly will come get you eventually,_  a voice in the back of his head warns.

 

He starts searching through the drawers and medicine cabinet with fervor. He’s not sure exactly what he’s looking for, but he just wants it all to go away. Anything to forget, anything to end it.

 

He notices the bruises forming on his wrists. He closes his eyes, trying to ignore the flashbacks his mind provides. 

  

Eddie shakes his head violently as if trying to physically rid himself of the memory. He starts searching faster.

 

_Please, God, just make it all go away, I don’t care what it takes I just want it to stop_ , he thinks desperately.

 

He can hear Richie grumbling and the soft ringing of a phone. “Hello, Miss Marsh—there’s a coked-up boy in my apartment that you need to come collect,” Richie says.

 

Eddie looks back in the medicine cabinet. When his eyes catch the orange prescription bottle he nearly smiles. There’s enough of the pain pills left over from Ben’s knee surgery to do the trick. Everything will be over then. He won’t have to think about it. 

 

“What’s wrong? Hell if I know, looks like he tried to down his weight in vodka after putting out. Garrett must be real bad in bed,” he jokes.

 

Eddie’s grip on the bottle tightens. He silently apologizes to his friends, knowing he doesn’t have time for goodbyes. If he wants this to be over he has to do it now. He dumps the pills into his hands, leaning heavily on the sink. He has to, he has to. No one can touch him if he’s dead.

 

“Eddie?!” He has no idea when Beverly arrived, but it means he has little time left.

 

“I’m sorry, Bevvy,” he chokes out.

 

And he is. He’s so sorry because he knows this is going to kill his friends.

 

“Eddie, baby, sorry for what?!”

 

No response. Eddie lays the pills on his tongue.

 

“EDDIE?!”

 

No response again. Eddie turns on the faucet, intent on washing the pills down with water.

 

He hears Beverly scream Ben’s name, and suddenly the door is being run into. It doesn’t take much of Ben Hanscom’s force to break down the shitty apartment door.

 

Eddie nearly chokes on the pills he’s trying to swallow. Beverly storms in and grabs him by the back of the shirt, pulling him backwards and sending him to the ground flat on his ass.

 

She wastes no time, practically straddling him before her sharp nails are being forced into his mouth.

 

He tries to push her off, but just like before he’s helpless. 

 

After she digs all the pills out she pauses. She’s breathing heavily, tears streaming down her face. Suddenly, immense guilt washes over him.

 

“Eddie, why?” 

 

Eddie starts sobbing. He just wants to forget. 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

Beverly practically drags him to the campus hospital. He’s limp by that point, letting Ben carry him into the stark white building he despises so much.

 

It doesn’t truly hit him again until two days later. Shock and denial were the only things that got him through the doctors performing a rape kit. They were insistent that he’d regret it otherwise, and Eddie was so tired.

 

He can’t press charges. It took everything he had to convince Beverly not to get Garrett arrested. 

 

Eddie’s terrified of pressing charges. He doesn’t want to be “that girl.” He doesn’t want the worst thing that’s ever happened too him to become college gossip. He’d never be able to forget, there’d be no end.

 

When Beverly brings him back to the apartment he breaks down. He’s probably pissing the neighbors off with how much he’s screaming, but it hurts, it hurts so bad.

 

Normally, Eddie’s anywhere from five seconds from wanting to crawl out of his skin, but now he wants to cut it off. He wants to rip open his skin and rid himself of all the bad Garrett put in him.

 

“I can’t forget it, Bevvy,” he sobs, curled in on himself as she rocks them back and forth.

 

“I know, baby, but it’ll get better. I _promise_ ,” she swears.

 

“But when?” Eddie counters.

 

Beverly falters. “I…I don’t know, Eds,” she admits.

 

He just wants to be clean again.

 

 

-

 

 

 

He’s sure that if it weren’t for Beverly he wouldn’t be at volleyball practice right now for the first time in two weeks. He’s told everybody that he’s been sick. No one questions him when they see the dead look in his eyes.

Beverly’s concerned that it was too soon, but Eddie’s insistent. Volleyball is all he has left.

 

It’s still hard. Beverly says it’ll get better with time. Eddie wonders how she ever did it. 

 

He wants the ground to swallow him whole as he pulls his shirt over his head. The bruises have faded but the memories haven’t. He’s disgusted with his body. It doesn’t even feel like his anymore.

 

“Eddie, are you okay?” Sydney asks tentatively.

 

He snaps out of his daze, shirt half way over his shoulders. He looks around and sees that the locker room is empty. All of the sudden tears are streaming down his face.

 

He feels so weak. He can’t even change in the locker room anymore.

 

It feels like Garrett took everything from him.

 

“Eddie?” she says, eyes wide with concern.

 

He bursts into tears.

 

Sydney ends up having to drive him home as he’s inconsolable. 

 

Beverly holds him until he cries himself to sleep.

 

 

 

-

 

 

“I really think you should report him to the police,” Beverly says again.

 

Eddie sighs. “Bevvy, please, I just want to forget,” he begs.

 

He’s curled up on the couch, in the middle of another sleepless night. The bags under his eyes must be atrocious by this point, but it’s better than the nightmares, it’s better than reliving it.

 

Anything to forget.

 

She purses her lips. “Eddie, guys like these don’t stop. There’s gonna be another victim.”

 

Eddie frowns. “It’s not my fault,” he says, almost automatically.

 

He knows she’s right, and the guilt of possibly being responsible for someone else suffering like this eats away at him.

 

Beverly quickly shakes her head. “Of course it’s not, baby, but will you let me at least make it clear to him that his DNA is on file?” 

 

Eddie bites his lip. “Okay, that’s the least I can do.”

 

 

-

 

 

Next week he makes it onto the court. He doesn’t participate, just watching instead.

 

The coach doesn’t ask what’s wrong. Eddie thinks some of the staff must have been notified after he was admitted to the campus hospital. His teachers have been more compassionate. A part of Eddie is embarrassed, but he knows he wouldn’t have gotten by without their leniency.

 

He doesn’t participate in practice until a month after it happens.   

 

It’s slow. So slow that it’s agonizing. Beverly tells him that it’s normal. That he has to give himself to recover.

 

Beverly says it’s each night you don’t wake up screaming, it’s being able to wear revealing clothes again, and more than anything it’s accepting that this won’t be what ends you.

 

He hasn’t quite gotten to any of those milestones yet, but he knows he will. Slowly but surely. He has to believe that.

 

 

-

 

 

 

The first thing that sets him back is Richie’s latest album. It’s titled  _Too Soon,_ and with articles calling it the “heartbreak album of the year,” Eddie’s sure some of the songs are about him. Or at least that’s what the tabloids are sure of. The classier ones refer to him as Richie’s ex-girlfriend, but the sleazy ones mention him by name, or even worse—his birth name.

 

Even before his attack Eddie would have been more than content to spend the post-break-up time out of the limelight.

 

It’s not until he reads the headline  _Was Richie Tozier’s ex-girlfriend abusive?_ that he becomes angry. He quickly Googles the list of songs on the album, and is enraged to find Cherry Wine is one of them. 

 

He _knows_ that song isn’t about him.

 

His indignation only dissipates when Richie sends a tweet out the same night.

 

_leave eds alone, cherry wine is NOT about her._

 

A few minutes later he puts out another tweet.

 

_half the songs on that album were written years ago_

Another few minutes pass.

 

_I only put out a break-up album bc the record label wanted me to jfc_

The last two are deleted almost as quick as they’re put up.

 

He’s left with more questions than answers. He’s left wondering exactly which albums songs on the album are about him and which are about Eddie.

 

He quickly pulls up the songs on Richie’s album. 

 1. Cherry Wine 

2\. Sedated  

3\. The Mystic  

4\. Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene 

5\. Losing my Love  

6\. Thru These Tears  

7\. Trouble 

 

He knows listening to Richie singing about heartbreak will probably make him feel worse, but the curiosity wins over.

_Just a little rush, babe_

_To feel dizzy, to derail the mind of me_

_Just a little hush, babe_

_Our veins are busy but my heart's in atrophy_

_Any way to distract and sedate_

_Adding shadows to the walls of the cave_

 

He quickly knows exactly what he’s singing about. A naïve, stupid part of Eddie wanted to believe that he’s gotten better by now, that Beverly had whipped him into shape or anything.

 

_You and I nursing on a poison that never stung_

_Our teeth and lungs are lined with the scum of it_

_Somewhere for this, death and guns_

_We are deaf, we are numb_

_Free and young and we can feel none of it_

 

Eddie feels sick to his stomach. It’s a brutal reminder that Richie doesn’t want to be addicted; he just is.

 

 

_Something isn't right, babe_

_I keep catching little words but the meaning's thin_

_I'm somewhere outside my life, babe_

_I keep scratching but somehow I can't get in_

_So we're slaves to any semblance of touch_

_Lord we should quit but we love it too much_

Eddie’s emotions feel raw again. Like when they first broke up. For once his mind isn’t consumed about his attack. He’s not sure how good of a thing that is, though, because another layer of pain is right underneath it. The pain of a still-broken heart.

 

_Darlin', don't you, stand there watching, won't you_

_Come and save me from it_

_Darlin', don't you, join in,_

_you're supposed to drag me away from it_

Eddie hastily turns the song off after that. Something about Richie asking his “darling” to save him from his addiction hurts too much. That’s Eddie’s greatest guilt. He didn’t give his all to get Richie help.

 

He walked away when the going got tough. He knew Richie was susceptible to substance abuse, he knew Richie didn’t like going to events by himself.

 

But he didn’t help. He yelled, he made Richie sleep on the couch, and he broke up with him.

 

When they broke up Richie was so weak. He didn’t do much of anything anymore. Eddie used Richie’s neglect as justification, but deep down he knows by that point Richie wasn’t himself anymore. He was a different version of himself. Riddled with drugs and enough self-hate to kill.

 

He ends up sneaking into the trio’s room that night. Regardless, he’s rewarded with little sleep.

 

 

-

 

 

It’s a week later when Eddie hears another one of his songs.

 

When  _Losing my Love_  starts playing, Eddie immediately stiffens up.

 

_I'm losing my love for you_

_The feeling's just not there_

_You broke my heart into_

_Pieces on my bed_

_I'm losing my love for you_

_The feeling's just not there_

_You broke my heart into_

_Pieces on my bed_

 

Eddie frowns. He finds himself desperately hoping this songs about Lily.

 

_Stop playing games_

_I ain't here to play none_

_I just need someone to lean on_

_Story's getting old_

_I can't seem to like it_

_We should start all over and rewrite it_

He shouldn’t care though, right? So what if Richie’s falling out of love with him. Eddie hates his guts. Well, he should.

 

_Yes means no_

_Stop means go_

_Why can't you decide_

_Because I really need to know_

_And if you ain't down it's cool anyway_

_'Cause if you haven't felt it I was gonna say_

_I’m losing my love for—_

Eddie quickly changes the station. He convinces himself the song is about Lily as well.

 

-

 

 

The last and final song Eddie hears from Richie’s album is _Thru These Tears_. He’s listening to his Discover Weekly playlist on Spotify when he hears an interesting intro. He doesn’t look at his phone and decides to give the song a chance. He stills when Richie’s voice floats through the speaker.

_This hurts like hell_

_But I keep telling myself_

_It's gonna get better_

_But it's taking forever_

_I tried to go out_

_But every time I leave the house_

_Something reminds me_

_Of what's now behind me_

_Everyday I let go_

_Just a little bit more_

 

Eddie wants nothing more than to turn the music off but it’s like he can’t stop listening. It’s almost like a taunt—like the world is showing him just how much Richie doesn’t love him anymore. Richie, who Eddie wants to hate more than anything, is falling out of love, while he still can’t get over his broken heart.

 

_In the end I'm gonna be alright_

_it might take a hundred sleepless nights_ _make the memories of you disappear_ _right now I can't see nothing through these tears_

_Control my thoughts_

_Convincing myself it's your loss_

_I really mean it_

_And I'm starting to believe it_

_'Cause everyday I let go_

_Just a little bit more_

 

Eddie reaches for his phone, holding it in a death grip. 

 

_In the end I'm gonna be alright_

_But it might take a hundred sleepless nights_

_To make the memories of you disappear_

_But right now I can't see nothing through these tears_

_Out of sight but you're not out of my mind_

_So it might take somebody else at night_

_To make it feel like you were never here_

_But right now I can't see nothing through these tears_

Tears well up in his eyes, blurring his vision. How fucking ironic. He finally brings himself to shut the music off. He rubs his eyes. Why can’t he just fucking let go?

 

 

-

 

 

 

It’s two months after the incident that he comes face to face with Garrett again. It’s the first time he’s walking back from class on his own. Usually he’ll have one of his friends escort him. 

 

“Eddie.”

 

His blood absolutely runs cold and he immediately feels panic settle in his chest. He looks up and locks eyes with Garrett. His first thought is that he wishes he swallowed all those pills faster.

 

Suddenly there’s a strong grip on his arm. “We need to talk.”

 

Eddie wants to scream but nothing comes out. 

 

He feels so weak again. Why can’t he move?

 

“Listen, your little friend Beverly made it clear that there’s DNA evidence against me, so I just decided I’d make it clear back. If you so much as try to take this to court, you’ll fucking regret it,” he snarls.

 

Garrett looks up and notices they’re drawing attention. Students look on curiously, eager to eat up any drama. He tugs Eddie so hard he almost loses balance. “Let’s have this conversation somewhere more private.”

 

 

-

 

 

Eddie looks ready to throw up, and, quite frankly, Richie wants nothing to do with that. He wonders exactly how messy the breakup must have been for Eddie to be acting so weird.  He’s standing in the courtyard with Garrett, looking absolutely terrified. 

 

Eddie’s been avoiding him since that night. He’s probably finally getting over Richie. He’s still angry. Still angry that Eddie had the audacity to come home high when that’s what led to their break-up.

 

Eddie catches his eyes and gives him an absolutely pitiful pleading look. Garrett has a firm hand on his shoulder, leading him away, and Richie really wants to keep walking and let him deal with his own problems. He sighs. Beverly will probably kick his ass if anything happens to Eddie. 

 

He jogs to catch up. “Hey, Eddie, Bevvy wants to talk to ya,” he says, not willing to form a good excuse.

 

Garrett gives him a dirty look, which he supposes is to be expected. “We’re a little busy here.”

 

He groans. “Listen bud, you can talk to her later. Best friends have priority.” 

 

Garrett looks around like he’s scared of making a scene, but he gives Eddie a pointed look. “This isn’t over.”

 

The second Garrett leaves, Eddie’s hyperventilating so horribly Richie’s afraid he might pass out. He reluctantly leads him behind the building, promising himself he’ll only stay until he’s sure Eddie’s not going to make himself faint.

 

“Jeez, Eds, you’re acting like the kid just shot your dog,” Richie mumbles as the boy starts sobbing.

 

Eddie chokes on his air. “You’re a real piece of shit, Richie, and somehow it’s my loss,” he grumbles.

 

Richie frowns. “What are you talking about?”

 

Eddie wipes at his tears. “I heard the songs, dickhead.”

 

Richie scoffs. “Nearly every song on that album is about Lily, hate to break it to you.”

 

Eddie stills, looking away. “Just leave me alone, Rich.”

 

He sighs. “As much as I’d love to, Beverly would castrate me if I left you alone mid-temper tantrum.”

 

Eddie’s expression hardens. “You don’t know anything, Rich,” he hisses.

 

Richie rolls his eyes. “I know you’re being a bit of a drama queen right now.”

 

He knows referring to Eddie with a term that implies he’s female probably wasn’t the nicest thing to do, but he can’t bring himself to care.

 

“Fuck you, Richie! That’s my Lily! That’s my  _Cherry Wine_!” Eddie screams.

 

Richie freezes, going stiff at the mention of Lily. “Since when did Garrett physically and emotionally abuse you for over a year?” he snaps.

 

“Did you notice?! That night that I came to the door ‘coked up’? Of course you didn’t. Didn’t notice that my clothes were half on, didn’t notice the blood on my thighs, or that my shirt was nearly ripped in half? God, I get you hate me, but you didn’t have to act so annoyed that I had stumbled up to your fucking door step!” Eddie rants.

 

Richie feels sick as he begins to put the pieces of the puzzle together. It makes sense; why Eddie’s so scared of his ex, his recent nightmares, Beverly’s sudden overprotectiveness. “Eddie, what do you mean?”

 

Eddie’s full-out crying at this point. “Do I have to spell it out for you?!” He raped me, Richie! I wasn’t ‘coked up,’ I was drugged. I wasn’t putting out fast enough and he decided he didn’t wanna wait anymore, I couldn’t push him off, it makes you feel so fucking weak! And...and I couldn’t relax, it felt like being ripped open. He told me  _‘If you’re easy enough to let Richie get in your pants I don’t see why you have to make such a fuss.’_ So fuck you, Richie, I’m allowed to be upset!” 

 

Richie falters, almost at a loss for words. “Eddie, I didn’t-“

 

“Yeah, you didn’t fucking know, but you probably knew leaving me in the bathroom while I was hysterical wasn’t right,” he seethes.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“What? Did you block out all the screaming that night? I was actively trying to swallow a bunch of pills when Beverly busted down the door. She literally had to dig them out of my mouth. I wanted to fucking die,” he says coldly.

 

Richie’s mouth is so dry it feels like cotton has been shoved down his throat. He swallows and tries to think of something, anything to say to make it all better.

 

“Eds—”

 

He’s cut off when Eddie slides his backpack off one shoulder, slinging it around and hitting him in the chest with it. “No! You don’t get to call me that! You don’t get to call me that after you left me to cry on the bathroom floor after my boyfriend raped me,” he hisses.

 

And before Richie can say anything else Eddie’s running away. He sways on his feet slightly as he’s left behind, feeling like the absolute worst person in the world.

 

 

-

 

 

Richie’s always known he’s been a fuck up. It was probably Lily’s favorite nickname for him. He wonders if he would’ve been better off just staying with Lily. He’d probably end up hurting people less.

 

He takes a deep breath as he loops the belt around his bicep. He pulls until his veins pop out from the lack of circulation. 

 

When he was Eddie he felt like he was on top of the world. Lily’s words started to fade from the back of his head.

 

_You’re so fucking stupid, Richie. I don’t know why I keep you around. You’re lucky, yknow, no one else would love someone as useless as you._

Now they’re back. They’re back and Richie would do anything to get them to stop.

 

He slowly grabs the needle sitting next to him, lining it up. Pushing the heroin into his veins is like pulling the trigger of a gun. He knows there’s no going back now, but Richie doesn’t care anymore.

 

Anything to forget.  
  
---  
  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i deleted last chapter because of a comment i got complaining that i didnt write eddies rape with enough seriousness. this comment was harsh and mentioned that cherry wine wasnt exactly living up to awtew. i understand this. my writing has been rushed lately. i want yall to know i'm writing much of eddie's characterization from experience. also you should take into consideration that the story isnt over. eddie and richies recovery are both going to be explored further. i'm sorry if the pervious version of this chapter was disappointing. i have people constantly asking me when i'll update and sometimes its just easier to get it out than write it how i truly want to, 
> 
> i appreciate any and all feedback, while the person who criticized me did upset me they did cause me to revise the entire chapter so there's that. 
> 
> my tumblr- happytreasure


	5. Call Me When You Hang

Eddie grips the back of Beverly’s shirt tighter. “I want to hate him so bad, Bev,” he sobs.

 

He wants to feel a seething rage for Richie. He wants to despise him, but he can’t. 

 

It’d been a week since the confrontation and Eddie’s still reeling—partially from Garret, but also from confronting Richie.

  

The second Richie learned the truth he looked devastated, which made him feel all the more conflicted. Sometimes he just wishes Richie would hurt him on purpose, not just because he makes bad decisions and is an addict. 

 

Beverly strokes his hair. “I know, baby, but you can’t force yourself to hate someone you love,” she points out.

 

Eddie shakes his head, tears streaming down his face. “Why do I still love him so much?”

 

“Eddie...I know you might not want to hear it, but you guys are like soulmates, and the fact that your breakup was so complicated doesn’t help either,” she says.

 

Eddie stiffens, pulling back. “You know things can never be the same again.”

 

“Eddie, you—”

 

“I need some fresh air,” he says, cutting her off.

 

He quickly gathers himself and rushes out the door, ignoring Beverly’s protests. He’s not sure why, but he had to get away from that conversation.

 

He had to get away because he can’t listen to what’s most likely the truth. Richie probably is his soulmate, and if that’s true, then they’ve really fucked up.

 

He huffs and pushes open the door to the stairway leading to the roof. Sometimes he and Richie would sneak up there and look at the stars.

 

He climbs the stairs and shoulders open the heavy door. He’s surprised to find that someone’s already beaten him up there, and even more surprised to see the person is standing on the ledge of the building.

 

Eddie lets the door close carefully behind him. The person must be fucking insane to be so close to the edge; one misstep and they’d be plummeting to their death.

 

Abruptly the person is leaning forward, one foot outstretched as if to take another step forward even though there’s nothing there to catch them. It’s suddenly _very_ clear why the person is so close to the edge.

 

“Hey, wait!” Eddie screams.

 

The figure stills. “I was thinking you weren’t gonna come this time,” they say in a voice Eddie would recognize anywhere. 

 

“Richie?” he asks.

 

Richie doesn’t turn around, but he sighs loud enough for Eddie to hear. “Why do I see you every time I try to kill myself? Why not Bevvy or Bill or Stan?”

 

Eddie’s eyes widen. “Rich, what are you talking about? Get down from the ledge, please.”

 

“No. Every time I look, you disappear,” he says, “I don’t wanna be alone again, Eds.”

 

Eddie feels his throat clog up and a whole new set of tears prick at his eyes. “Richie,” he says desperately.

 

He’s obviously high out of his mind, and Eddie has no idea how to convince him he’s not hallucinating.

 

“I hurt you again,” he continues. “I’d rather be dead than keep hurting you, so why do you always try and stop me, huh?”

 

Eddie heart twists as he starts crying. It hits him that Richie’s been trying to die. “Richie, please,” he begs.

 

“I tried something harder last week,” he admits. “Sometimes I think I keep doing stupid things so I’ll have more incentive to kill myself. I can’t live with how much I hurt the people I love.”

 

Eddie heaves a sob. “Please, Richie, please, just let me put you to bed.”

 

Richie sighs in defeat and crawls down from the ledge. When he looks up and sees that Eddie’s still there, he looks genuinely surprised. Still, he doesn’t say anything. He robotically follows Eddie down the stairs, wobbling several times. 

 

Eddie’s glad that Beverly’s not in the living room when he gets Richie into the apartment. He doesn’t have the energy to explain. He carefully leads Richie to his bedroom. 

 

The boy plops down onto the bed, and Eddie notices he’s shaking. He leans down and starts untying Richie’s boots before tugging them off. Undressing him is a slow task.

 

Eddie pulls the covers up the Richie’s chin and without really thinking about it presses a soft kiss to his forehead. “Please, get better,” he whispers.

 

Richie stares at him, looking completely out of it. “God is punishing me by making the person I’ve hurt most in the world my guardian angel,” he murmurs, closing his eyes.

 

Eddie checks his phone and sees a few texts from Bev. He sends her one asking her to check on Richie, claiming he saw him barely make it inside. 

 

With that, he slips back out of the apartment, emotionally confused and exhausted.

 

 

-

 

Richie’s surprisingly sober for a Friday night. When he learned Eddie had been raped, and he’d treated him so badly, he was at first consumed by overwhelming regret and self-hatred. But now all he feels is anger. 

 

He supposes it’s hypocritical to loathe someone who hurt Eddie when he’s done just that, but he can’t stop the irrational anger. 

 

He only knows Garrett’s apartment and car model from seeing him pick Eddie up and overhearing a conversation between him and Bev. 

 

He has plenty of time to assess the irrationality of what he’s doing as he makes his way to Garrett’s apartment complex. Regardless, the walk over does nothing to dissipate his rage.

 

He pulls the hood of his jacket more securely around his face and pulls the scarf up so only his eyes are visible. 

 

It takes him about a half an hour of walking around the parking lot before he finds Garrett’s car. He knows it’s his from the UCLA and lacrosse stickers. 

 

He crouches in between the two cars and pulls out the small knife he bought. Starting on the back door, he carefully carves the word “RAPIST” into the metal. He crawls on his hands and knees to the other side and repeats his actions. 

 

He could stop there, knowing his point had been made, but he’s not finished. 

 

Instead he reaches in his bag and pulls out a spray paint can. Shaking it thoroughly, he proceeds to write the same accusing word on Garret’s back and front windshield. 

 

He quickly packs up his bag and keeps it moving. In all honesty, he’s not that worried about being caught. Even if he’s found out he could easily pay bail for minor vandalism.

 

He whistles an upbeat tune on his way back.

 

 

-

 

The first thing Eddie does after waking up is check Twitter like a proper millennial. He’s shocked to see his feed—which is usually full of his fellow students’ tweets—consumed by the same story retweeted by nearly every student he’s following.

 

He quickly clicks on the original tweet and finds it’s posted by a girl he’s seen around campus.

 

_Came outside this morning to see someone decorated @gsmith’s car. Always knew you were a creep_

 

Eddie’s shocked to see Garrett’s twitter handle. He quickly taps on the photos and gasps when he sees that someone has carved the word ‘RAPIST’ into the side of his car and painted it on the windshields.

 

At first, the tweet strikes fear into him as it insinuates that someone knows what happened, but as he quickly scrolls through the replies he doesn’t see his name mentioned. Instead, people are tearing Garrett apart, and even a few girls bravely coming forward revealing he’s assaulted them in the past.

 

Eddie’s head feels like it’s spinning with the new information. A part of him feels less alone knowing there are other people, even though he wouldn’t wish what happened to him on anyone. 

 

The other part of him feels the sweet satisfaction that comes with revenge. Garrett more than deserved the shit he was going to get for being exposed, and the fact that Eddie hadn’t been wrapped up in it is simply the icing on the cake.

 

Sure, a few people will probably put two and two together, students will speculate, but it’ll be nowhere near the scale of ridicule had Eddie gone to the police.

 

He rushes out of bed high on giddiness. He’s sure one of the Losers had done it. Sure, he had asked them not to get involved, but he hadn’t really thought any of their definitions of getting involved would include vandalism.

 

He speeds into the living room delighted to see everyone present but Richie. They’re all in the kitchen, helping cook what is going to be a large breakfast. They’re all having a meal together because next week, everyone but Eddie and Richie are taking a week trip to New York. Beverly and Ben for a vacation and the trio because Mike is going to meet his boyfriends’ parents. Eddie couldn’t come because of volleyball. He wasn’t sure of Richie’s reason, or if he even had one.

 

Eddie grins. “I’m not mad, so which one of you did it?” 

 

He’s met with puzzled looks. 

 

Bill’s the first to speak up. “What do you mean?”

 

Eddie frowns and holds his phone up. “Have you checked Twitter?”

 

They all quickly pull out their phones and one by one give him surprised looks. 

 

Eddie falters. “None of you did it?”

 

There’s a collective shake of heads. 

 

Eddie’s grip tightens on his phone as a rush of panic consumes him. “Then who did?”

 

Before any of them can answer, the door opens. Eddie turns around to see a half-awake Richie. 

 

He awkwardly waves. “We’re still on for breakfast, yeah?” 

 

Eddie doesn’t fail to notice that his fingertips are stained red. 

 

-

 

 

 

Eddie lays his head in Katie’s lap and wraps his arms around her thighs like he’s scared she’ll disappear if he doesn’t. 

 

She’s planning on attending UCLA as well, but decided to take a gap year. Eddie knew it was what was best for her but he misses her greatly. He hasn’t seen her since summer.

 

She strokes his hair softly as he cuddles closer to her. Of course, she  _knows_ , being one of Eddie’s best friends. 

 

She had wanted to go to California after their breakup and his rape, but she hadn’t had the money of her own. From what he understands, Richie got an earful from her after both instances. But he doubts she knows how bad Richie’s situation is. No matter what, he doesn’t want Richie’s little sister to see him drugged up.

 

Eddie looks up at her when she starts subconsciously bouncing her leg. She’s anxious. Richie wasn’t here when she arrived and Eddie would bet good money he’s off getting high.

 

“Are you okay, Katie?” he asks.

 

Katie sighs. “I just—I just can’t stand not knowing where he is right now. Mom keeps asking how he is,” she reveals.

 

A huge reason for Katie traveling all the way to California in the middle of the school year was because Maggie hadn’t heard from Richie for weeks.

 

Eddie frowns. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

 

“You better not be apologizing for what I think you are. It’s not your fault Richie couldn’t get his shit together. As much as I love him, I can’t blame you for his fuckups,” she says firmly.

 

Eddie sits up and looks at her fully. “I think he’s suicidal, Katie,” he admits.

 

Katie tears up but she doesn’t look surprised. “He’s called me a few times high. When I asked why he was calling he said he didn’t want to do something stupid.”

 

Eddie digs his nails into his palms. “I know me and Richie are supposed to hate each other, but if anything happened to him...” Eddie trails off.

 

Katie puts a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Eddie, I’ll knock some sense into him,” she promises.

 

-

 

It’s in the middle of the night when the sound of the bedroom door opening and the rustling of someone shuffling inside wakes Katie. She’d made sure to sleep in Richie’s bed so she couldn’t miss him. She hadn’t anticipated how late he’d stay out. 

 

Richie stumbles as he shrugs off his jacket and slips off his boots. He doesn’t even notice Katie.

 

“Richie?” she says softly.

 

She gasps when he looks at her and no emotion crosses his face.

 

“Oh, bubba,” she whispers, “what have you gotten yourself into?”

 

Richie frowns and squints at her. “Kit-Kat?” he says wearily, “haven’t seen you in a while.”

 

She’s almost surprised by the tears that start suddenly sliding down her face.

 

“Why, Richie? Momma is so fucking worried about you,” she says.

 

He doesn’t answer and instead lays in bed next to Katie like she’s not even there. She wonders what the hell he took to not even be fully aware of her presence.

 

She tries to muffle her cries as she wraps her arms around him. He flinches at the touch but relaxes into her. 

 

She’s reminded of when she was younger and she’d run into Richie’s room after a nightmare.

 

_Katie tiptoed into her older brother’s room. He was sprawled out on his bed, long limbs hanging off the edges._

_She put a hand on his shoulder and shook him lightly. He groaned and slowly propped himself up on his elbow before turning on his bedside lamp._

_“Kit-Kat?” he grumbled. “Why are you waking me up?”_

_She looked at him, lower lip jutted out and tears pooling in her eyes. She doesn’t even know why he asked. It had to have been the third time she woke him up that week._

_Richie sighed tiredly. “Another nightmare?”_

_She nodded and Richie sat up fully. Katie watched as he propped his pillow against the headboard and rested his back against it. He patted in between his legs._

_“Pop a squat, Kates,” he said._

_Katie crawled on the bed obediently and pulled her knees to her chest. It was ritual for them. He knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep until she calmed down, and the best way to calm Katie down was to play with her hair. So, he kept a brush and scrunchies in his nightstand table._

_Katie’s shoulders relaxed as Richie ran the brush through her unruly curls before getting to work on carefully braiding them._

_Little did she know that at the end of the summer her parents would send her big brother to a year-round boarding school._

_She started sleeping in his bed when she had nightmares after that._

-

 

Katie pushes the bowl of oatmeal in front of him further. “Eat. You’re skin and bones, Richie,” she urges.

 

Richie sighs. He’s not very hungry, but he knows Katie won’t give in.

 

She sits down in the chair next to him. “Mom wants you to go to rehab,” she says gently.

 

He snorts. “That’d be quite the scandal,” he says.

 

Katie frowns. “I’m serious, Richie, you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

 

He rolls his eyes dramatically. “Chill out, Katie, I’m fine.”

 

 _Why am I being so mean to her?_  he thinks,  _she’s only trying to help._ He wants to apologize, say he’s sorry for putting her and Maggie through hell, but it’s like he can only say and do bad.

 

“Eddie says he thinks you’re suicidal,” she reveals.

 

Richie frowns. “Yeah? And what the fuck does he know? I don’t even speak to him anymore,” he snaps.

 

Katie runs a hand down her face. “Look, you know I can’t just not tell mom how bad you’re doing,” she says.

 

“Of course you can, it’s called lying,” he retorts.

 

“Goddammit, Richie,” she snaps. “You make it impossible for people to help you.”

 

Richie gives her a sarcastic smile. “Well, maybe that’s a sign you should stop trying,” he suggests.

 

Katie groans. “Look, I have to catch a ride with the others to the airport, just—just please don’t do anything stupid, bubba,” she begs.

 

Richie’s cold demeanor wavers slightly at the old nickname. “No worries, if I’m gonna off myself I’ll wait until I’m twenty-seven, gotta go out a legend and all that.”

 

Katie gives him a worried look and presses a kiss to his forehead.

 

 

-

 

 

Richie groans as he opens his eyes. He sits up slowly, not surprised when he finds himself in a bed that’s not his. His head is pounding more than usual and he has no memory of the night before...although it isn’t the first time.

 

He rolls over and nearly jumps out of bed when he sees Lily lying next to him, staring at him with a smug smile.

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, how high did you get me to make this mistake again?” 

 

She sneers. “You’ll take anything someone hands you after a few hits,” she informs him.

 

Richie quickly rolls out of the bed and starts tugging on his clothes. “So, you got me so high I fucked you? Whatcha tryna do, Lils? Catch a rape charge?”

 

Lily scoffs. “Yeah, just try going to the police, Richie. I was crossfaded too, and you were the one doing the fucking. Besides, you get high every night and let just about anyone have their way with you, so I don’t know why you’re upset.”

 

Richie shakes his head and quickly finds his belongings before rushing out the bedroom door.

 

Lily follows him out. “Just remember, I’m the only one who will ever take you back! It’s a mystery how you've survived without me, I'm surprised your not dead, although maybe that’s for the best. You really are fucking useless. You gave up the only person who was ever devoted to you. So, I take it back. I’m actually surprised you haven’t grown a pair and killed yourself yet,” she hisses.

 

Richie doesn’t respond. Instead, he slams the door behind himself. 

 

It doesn't matter how quick he runs from her place her words are still stuck in the back of his head. 

 

 _Maybe she's right,_ he thinks bitterly.

 

-

 

His fingertips feel numb as he presses the call button on his mother’s contact.

 

She picks up quickly. “Richie, baby, I’ve been so worried, what’s going on?”

 

Richie squeezes his eyes shut. She’s saying too many words and his head feels too fuzzy to answer them.

 

He settles on, “I’m sorry.”

 

“Sorry for what, baby?”

 

“Everything I’ve done to you and Dad, Katie too,” he admits.

 

“Richie, are you okay?”

 

“I’ve been such a shit son lately, and I just wanted to apologize before...” he trials off.

 

“Before what, Richie?” 

 

“I gotta go, Mags. Make sure Katie gets through college without taking out any loans, yeah?”

 

“What? Richie, what are you talking about?” 

 

Richie hangs up the phone.

 

-

 

The obnoxious ringing of Eddie’s phone wakes him up as he’s on the verge of sleep. 

 

He huffs and snatches his phone from the bedside table. He checks the caller ID before he mouths off to someone important and is shocked to find it’s Maggie Tozier.

 

“Maggie?” he says. “What’s up?”

 

“Go check on Richie, please,” she begs, sounding frantic.

 

“What? Why?”

 

“Just please. He called me apologizing and I just have a bad feeling about it this time,” she explains.

 

“Okay, okay,” Eddie agrees, “I’ll go over right now, I’ll text you how he is in a few minutes.”

 

Maggie lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much, Eddie.”

 

Eddie hangs up his phone and slips on some shoes. He silently makes his way out of his apartment, grabbing the spare key to Richie’s.

 

He groggily unlocks the door and shuffled into the living room, heading towards Richie’s room.

 

“Richie? You better apologize to Maggie for whatever you did to scare her, you asshole,” he calls.

 

There’s no response. He holds his breath as he pushes the bedroom door open. 

 

Richie’s laying on his bed, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling. It’s hard to see him in the room’s dim lighting 

  

“Richie?” he says again.

 

No response. 

 

He quickly makes his way over to the bed, leaning over Richie. He gasps when he realizes that he’s shaking uncontrollably. His lips are blue and he’s seems like he’s staring straight through him.

 

“You’re a little too late this time, angel,” Richie rasps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long to get out guys, life, school esp, has been kicking my ass, anyway were reaching peak sadness in cherry wine, things will start to get better after this promise!!
> 
> anyway please leave a comment or feedback!! i'm in need of it 
> 
> my tumblr- happytreasure


	6. Work Song

Richie wakes up in the hospital and cringes. His manager is going to kill him. 

 

 _Well, I really went and fucked up this time_ , he thinks bitterly.

He slowly opens his eyes and tries to sit up, but a small hand on his chest stops him.   
  


“Richie, take it easy,” Eddie says softly.  
  


Richie gasps slightly. “What are you doing here, Eds? I just put you through hell again,” he murmurs.

 

Eddie sighs. “The things we do for people we love,” he laments.

 

Richie shakes his head furiously. “No, no, no, all I do is fucking hurt you!” 

 

“Richie!” Eddie protests as he begins ripping needles out of his arms and moving to stand. 

 

Richie ignores him, moving towards a nearby table on where he spots his belongings.  
  


“Richie, you can’t leave! You have to go through detox,” Eddie says, following after him as he opens the hospital door.

 

“The only thing I have to do is take more next time,” he whispers harshly.

 

“No! You’re not doing this anymore, Richie!” he yells.

 

Richie scoffs and presses the elevator button, leaning heavily against the wall. “Yeah? Who’s gonna stop me?”  
  


Eddie looks like he’s about to punch him in the face, and honestly Richie deserves it. “Me! I’m doing what I should’ve fucking done before. I’m gonna make you get your fucking shit together, Rich,” he says fiercely. 

 

Richie groans. “Why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone? You’re gonna get yourself hurt.”

 

Eddie follows him into the elevator. “Because unfortunately for me, I still love you, asshole. I’m not dealing with your bullshit anymore. I’m gonna put my everything into getting you better this time and I swear to fucking god if you don’t try too—” He stops, voice cracking with emotion. 

 

Richie’s hands are shaking. He’s entirely too sober for this conversation. “How can you ever forgive me? I’m in way too deep.”

 

“No, you’re not, you’re gonna grow the fuck up and take care of yourself. You think I haven’t wanted to end it?” he snaps. “I still fucking do sometimes, I will never fucking be the same, but you know what I don’t do? Throw my whole life away.”

 

Richie keeps his mouth shut because he can’t argue. He  _has_  been throwing his life away.

 

The elevator opens and Eddie exits, but not before grabbing his wrist and dragging him along. “C’mon, dipshit, we need to go to the store.”

 

“The store?” 

 

“We’re out of food and just about everything else and you’re detoxing one way or another, even if I have to lock you in an apartment for the next week,” he says firmly.

 

Richie sighs. “Eddie, I’m a fucking heroin addict, that’s gonna be hell for both of us,” he points out. 

 

He’s already craving another high.  
  


Eddie tightens his grip on Richie’s hand. “Well, you refused help at the hospital so you’ve left me no choice,” he grumbles.

 

Richie frowns. “Well, that’s because I was planning to go shoot up again. I just tried to off myself, not exactly at the willing-to-accept-help stage yet,” he admits.  
  


Eddie looks genuinely pained. “Well, too bad,” he says, pulling Richie into a Target. “Get ready for sobriety.”

 

Richie’s heart hurts at his determination. He can’t stand being the one to crush his spirits.

 

 _God, please don’t let me break him_ , he thinks.

 

“Hey, Eddie,” he says softly as they head towards the grocery section.  
  


The smaller boy hums in inquiry.

 

“I never stopped loving you either,” he reveals. 

 

Eddie whips around and stares at him with those big brown eyes that he’s missed so much. They’re filled with so much hope. He doesn’t say anything, instead nodding firmly and continuing through the grocery store.

  
  


-

  
  


“Don’t worry, Maggie,” he assures. “I’m going to keep a very close eye on him.”

 

Maggie had immediately wanted to fly down when she heard what happened, but Eddie was able to convince her to calm down. She became considerably less worried when he promised to get Richie into rehab.  
  


“Okay, I just...I’m so worried,” she murmurs.

 

“I know, I’ll make sure he visits during break in a few weeks, but until then I’ll take care of him,” he promises.

 

Maggie lets out one last worried sigh. “Thank you, Eddie,” she says with sincerity.  
  


“No problem,” he replies, quickly wrapping up the conversation before hanging up.  
  


He sighs heavily and turns to look at Richie, who’s struggling to sit still on the couch. He’s clad in sweatpants and a shirt that wouldn’t have hung so desperately off his frame last year.

 

He tiredly walks up to Richie and stops in front of him.

 

He means to say something, but before he can get anything out, Richie’s holding his arms open, asking for a hug. Just like so many times before, Eddie falls into his arms, easily straddling his lap and wrapping his arms around him.

 

“Fuck, _baby_ , I’m so sorry for all the shit I’ve done to you,” he cries.  
  


Eddie shakes his head. “It’s okay, you’re gonna get better and you’re gonna make it up to me,” he says firmly.  
  


Richie nods. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I listened to Lily,” he chokes out.

 

“Lily?” Eddie asks.  
  


Richie holds him so tight it almost hurts. “I’d go home with people when I was high. One time Lily found me in a club and she gave me some shit, and I...I don’t remember anything until the morning after. She tried to convince me that we had unsafe sex, but I found the condom in the trash can. The second time I woke up I don’t remember any of it—I don’t even know if we used a condom,” he reveals.

 

Eddie tenses. “Richie, that’s...”

 

Richie shakes his head. “No, no, I don’t know if I consented,” he says.

 

Eddie gives Richie a look of disagreement and pauses before responding. “What’d she tell you?”  
  


Richie sighs. “She told me that she’s the only one who was ever devoted to me, and that she’s surprised I haven’t killed myself without her,” he rambles, hands shaking furiously and breathing strained. “And then I went home and I...”  
  


Eddie grips the back of his shirt tightly. “I’m gonna kill her,” he whispers, deadly calm. 

 

Richie scoffs. “Don’t give her the satisfaction of knowing I killed myself over something she said,” he replies.  
  


“You mean tried to kill yourself,” Eddie corrects.

 

Richie gives him a tired smile. “I dunno, if you’re sitting in my lap I must be in heaven,” he says.

 

Eddie feels the tears come to his eyes almost immediately. He hasn’t heard Richie make a joke in so long. Richie’s hands come up to cup his cheeks as he starts sobbing.  
  


“Eds?! What’s wrong?”  
  


“You made a joke,” he cries.  
  


Richie looks at him with tears in his own eyes and smiles. “Yeah, baby, that’s kinda my thing,” he says.

 

Eddie shakes his head. “Not for a while,” he points out.

 

Richie pauses. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he admits.   
  


Eddie wipes his cheeks before tucking his face back into the crook of Richie’s neck, intent on staying there until he forgets the pain.

  
  


- 

  
  


Once Eddie gets all the dope away from him, Richie feels a sudden overwhelming sense of despair.

 

He watches silently as Eddie moves around the house, head feeling dizzy and body shaking. It takes him a while to realize Eddie’s packing a bag.  
  


“Where are we going?”  
  


Eddie gives him a curious look and brushes his sweaty hair out of his eyes. “I wasn’t serious about locking you in the apartment, you know that, right? It’s really dangerous to detox without medical assistance,” he says sternly.  
  


Richie wants to protest, but at this point he’d probably follow Eddie to the ends of the earth. “Will you stay with me?” 

 

“Of course,” he says, pressing a kiss to his forehead, before turning to his duffel bag and continuing to pack. 

 

“I’m the one who trashed Garrett’s car. I’m sorry for going behind your back, I just...I was so angry,” he admits.

 

Eddie turns back around and kneels in front of the bed. “I figured, I saw your fingertips were stained red the morning after,” he reveals.  
  


Richie’s not horribly surprised by Eddie having found out. He’s incredibly observant. “I know it wasn’t really my place—“

 

“Maybe so,” Eddie cuts him off before flashing him a grin. “But you gotta admit the bastard deserved it.”  
  


Richie smiles back and nods. “He deserves a hell of a lot more.”

 

“You take out Garrett, I take out Lily,” Eddie says.  
  


Richie laughs weakly. “Deal,” he answers.

 

It goes quiet after that, which Richie’s okay with. He can barely hold a conversation with how much pain his body is in.  
  


He tries to focus on the sound of Eddie packing instead of the bone-deep pain and cold sweat that’s consumed his whole body.

  
  


-

  
  


Richie’s entire body trembles as he weakly grasps Eddie’s hand. He can’t remember ever feeling such intense pain and cravings. Suddenly he quickly pulls away and leans over the other side of the bed to puke for the sixth time that day.  
  


He turns away from Eddie, curling in on himself and taking in ragged breaths. “I give up, I’d rather be a junkie the rest my life,” he groans.

 

Eddie scrambles onto the bed and crawls over Richie. “Too bad. You owe it to us, Trashmouth,” he says firmly, “so I’m gonna get you clean and then you’re making it up to me.” 

 

Richie groans at the pain that comes with turning over onto his back, but he manages a smile. “How shall I pay you back?” 

 

“Well first, you’re going to rehab, we should probably both go to therapy, and  _then_ ,” Eddie pauses and Richie raises an eyebrow in curiosity. “Then you’re taking me wherever I wanna go.”   
  


“And where’s that?”   
  


Eddie bites his lip taking a moment to think. “Paris, Italy, Belgium, I dunno, Rich, I wanna see the world,” he says.  
  


Richie nods in understanding. “I can do that,” he promises, leaning up to press a kiss to Eddie’s mouth; however, the smaller boy turns his head so Richie’s lips touch his cheek instead.

 

Richie gulps. “Did I...did I read the situation wrong?”  
  


Eddie shakes his head. “No, but we can’t get back together right now. We have to get better first,” he says firmly.

 

Richie softly runs a hand up Eddie’s side. “Well then, I guess I’m getting better,” he says determinedly.

  
  


-

  
  


_Richie kisses up Eddie’s torso, pausing at his breasts to run his tongue over his nipples, which causes his boyfriend to let out a high-pitched, needy moan._

 

_“Richie,” Eddie whines petulantly, “you’ve been eating me out for an hour! Please.”_

 

_Richie smirks, wiping the slick off his chin with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry, darling, you seemed to be enjoying yourself,” he teases._   
  


_He knows it’s not that Eddie didn’t love being eaten out for the better part of an hour, because he did. Richie’s sure of it from how hard he pulled his hair and rocked his hips toward Richie’s mouth. It’s obvious from the way he moaned for it and how he started shaking after Richie brought him to a fourth then fifth orgasm. The only problem is Eddie hates having to ask to be fucked. He gets all too embarrassed when he has to ask Richie to just fucking shove his cock in, and Richie loves making him ask._

 

_Eddie squirms as Richie mouths at his collar bone. “Richie, please, please,” he begs._

 

_Richie smirks against his skin. “What can I do for you, sugar?”_   
  


_Eddie whines, squeezing his thighs around Richie’s hips, trying to force him closer._   
  


_“C’mon, you gotta ask if you want something,” he says._   
  


_Eddie gives him a surprisingly determined look before tangling his fingers in Richie’s hair and pulling him down so his ear is level with Eddie’s mouth._

 

_“Richie, I want it, want your cock inside me because it stretches me out so fucking good, Richie, wanna feel it inside me, wanna come on it, want you to fuck me good,” he says breathily, keeping his hand firm in Richie’s hair so he can’t pull back to make eye contact._   
  


_Richie chokes on air because Eddie’s never said anything so filthy to him and it’s exactly what he wanted. He quickly lines his cock up with Eddie’s entrance and begins sliding it in. He fucks into Eddie with sharp, desperate thrusts, eager to listen to his boyfriend’s flustered, desperate moans._   
  


_“Eddie, my love,” he murmurs against his skin._

 

“Richie!” Eddie screeches loudly. 

 

Richie’s eyes snap open immediately and he blinks quickly to adjust to the light as he’s pulled from his apparent dream-memory. He’s suddenly very aware of how hard he is and he’s also very aware of the warm body pressed against his front.   
  


He looks down at his crotch and sees that his very obvious erection is pressed against the curve Eddie’s ass. He nearly springs out of bed, but doesn’t account for how weak he still is and collapses on the floor.

 

“Richie!” Eddie yelps, shyly looking over the edge of the hospital bed to check on him.  
  


Richie groans and covers his face with his hands. “Fuck, Eddie, I’m so sorry,” he says, peeking in between his fingers to see Eddie’s thankfully embarrassed and not furious face. 

 

He swallows awkwardly. “It’s okay, it’s not like it was on purpose or anything. Besides, I can’t say I haven’t had similar dreams since we broke up,” he admits.  
  


Richie lets his hands fall to his sides and gives Eddie a small smile. “Well, at least the feeling’s mutual.”  
  


Eddie nods, his expression becoming a bit more forlorn. “I’m uh, I’m sorry I kinda yelled,” he apologizes, closing his eyes lightly, “I haven’t done anything since, um...since Garrett and I just..I just kinda freaked out.”

 

Richie’s heart drops into his stomach. “Fuck, Eddie, I’m so fucking sorry,” he blurts, giving himself vertigo with how fast he sits up.  
  


Eddie shakes his head firmly. “You’re not him. You can’t blame yourself for what he did to me,” he reaffirms.

 

Richie nods sadly, still upset with himself.   
  


“Just give me a little warning next time and I won’t be screaming out of fear,” Eddie jokes, clearly trying to lift Richie’s spirits.   
  


Richie grins. “You got it. Now, can you help me up? I don’t think I can stand by myself. Also, you may wanna call a nurse. I kinda ripped out my IV,” he comments.  
  


Eddie’s eyes widen. “Oh, shit!” he exclaims before rushing to collect a nurse.   
  


Richie lies back on the cold, tile floor of the hospital. God, he's missed Eddie Kaspbrak.

  
  


-

  
  


Richie’s sure that he’s in hell. He must’ve finally kicked the bucket, unsurprisingly didn’t make it to the pearly gates, and is stuck with Lucifer himself for eternity. That’s the only explanation for the amount of pain he’s in.  
  


He can’t tell if Eddie’s with him anymore. He‘s not talking and as Richie floats in and out of consciousness he can’t tell what’s real. 

 

He opens his eyes, hours later for all he knows, and feels like he’s run a marathon, sweat profusely dripping down his forehead. He weakly looks up from the ground and sees an angel standing in front of him. Well it’s not exactly an angel—it’s Eddie, but he sure looks like an angel.   
  


He doesn’t realize he’s singing until he hears his own voice.

 

_Boys workin' on empty_

_Is that the kind'a way to face the burning heat?_

_I just think about my baby_

_I'm so full of love I could barely eat_

 

When’s the last time he ate? Richie isn’t sure. What he does know is that food isn’t important now that he has Eddie back.

 

 _There's nothin' sweeter than my baby_  
I'd never want once from the cherry tree  
'Cause my baby's sweet as can be  
He give me toothaches just from kissin' me  
  


God, he wants it so bad too. To kiss Eddie again.

 

_When, my, time comes around_

_Lay me gently in the cold dark earth_

_No grave can hold my body down_

_I'll crawl home to him_

 

He’s not sure where he gets the words from. He wonders if dying gives you a creative spark.  
  


_Boys, when my baby found me_ _  
I was three days on a drunken sin_

_I woke with his walls around me_

_Nothin' in his room but an empty crib_   
  


He would have died a lot more lonely without Eddie.

 

_And I was burning up a fever  
I didn't care much how long I lived_

_But I swear, I thought I dreamed him  
He never asked me once about the wrong I did_

 

And then the angel gets closer and it’s cupping his face. No, this is real. This is flesh and blood.  __  
  


 _Maybe I’m not dead_ , he thinks.

__  
  


_When, my, time comes around_

_Lay me gently in the cold dark earth_

_No grave can hold my body down_

_I'll crawl home to him_

_When, my, time comes around_

_Lay me gently in the cold dark earth_

_No grave can hold my body down_

_I'll crawl home to him_

He decides then and there that not even death is going to keep him from Eddie. No matter what, he’s going to get through this, because Eddie asked him to.

_My babe would never fret none_

_About what my hands and my body done_

_If the Lord don't forgive me_

_I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me_   
  


 

God, how could Eddie forgive him for everything he’s done? How is his love so endless?

 

_When I was kissin' on my baby_

_And he’d put his love down, soft and sweet_

_In the low lamplight, I was free_

_Heaven and Hell were words to me_

  
He’s less scared of dying than he is of letting down Eddie.

 

_When, my, time comes around_

_Lay me gently in the cold dark earth_

_No grave can hold my body down_

_I'll crawl home to him_

_When, my, time comes around_

_Lay me gently in the cold dark earth_

_No grave can hold my body down_

_I'll crawl home to him_

The angel— or Eddie, he supposes—leans down and presses a kiss to his forehead. “You can do this,” he whispers.

 

Richie nods. 

 

 _For you I can_ , he thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorrry for the long time i took to update, if u follow me on tumblr you'll know life;s been kicking my ass. anyway things are finally looking up!! it's uphill from here folks
> 
> your comments and feedback mean the world ti me so dont hesitate.
> 
> my tumblr - happytreasure


	7. Though Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's so short

Richie feels incredibly tired again today. He didn’t want to go to his check up, but Eddie gave him the look™️ and he caved.   
  
“Any feelings of depression or hopelessness?” the nurse asks.  
  
Richie tears his gaze from the window and takes a second to process what she’s said. “Yeah,” he says softly.  
  
“Any thoughts of suicide or hurting yourself?”  
  
“No,” he says a little to quickly.  
  
He doesn’t have to look at Eddie’s face to know the other boy is glaring at him.   
  
Richie sighs dramatically. “Yes,” he admits. “Don’t have a plan though,” he adds quickly when the nurse writes something down.  
  
He was in rehab for a good two months before he felt well enough to take on the world again. Recovery isn’t over though. He still goes to therapy and twice a week, sometimes Eddie comes to his appointments, sometimes he goes to Eddie’s.  
  
Right now he’s at the doctor’s office getting a drug test. It’s something his new manager is pushing him to do so they can have it on record.  
  
It’s a pain in the ass though. He doesn’t enjoy talking to random nurses or doctors. It took him a while before he even opened up to his therapist.   
  
He knows how important it is to talk to her though. He definitely can’t put all of his doubts and worries on Eddie. God knows that kid has enough on his plate.  
  
Eddie laces their fingers together and rubs his thumb over the back of Richie’s hand comfortingly.   
  
He’s not really sure what they are right now. They haven’t done anything beyond simple kissing which is understandable. Richie thinks it’s smart that they both take some time to heal before they get back together.  
  
Regardless he lets himself take comfort in Eddie’s close proximity. He leans down so his forehead is touching the top of Eddie’s head and sighs. He enjoys the moment before pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead.  
  
“Thank you for coming with me, Eds,” he says sincerely.  
  
“Course,” he murmurs softly.  
  
-  
  
He takes a deep breath, letting the makeup crew do some last minute touch ups. It’s his first live performance since rehab and his fans are elated.   
  
He’s under new management too. Someone who’s a little less expectant of him, a little more caring. It’s made a world of a difference.  
  
It’s been a while since he remembered why he got into music. Been a while since he felt that overwhelming love he has for being up on a stage.  
  
He takes a deep breath as his cue to come out is given. He turns to his side where Eddie is standing giving him and encouraging smile and a thumbs up.  
  
He’s got this.  
  
“Hey guys,” he says into the mic, waiting a few moments for the screaming to settle down, “long time no see, but don’t worry I’m back,” he promises.  
  
He speaks for a few more moments, thanking them for their support and patience.  
  
“Now, I wanted to start off with a new song, no one except the crew has heard it actually. This is song is to my muse, even when I lost you, you still had me writing song after song about you,” he says fondly.   
  
The crowd coos as he plays the opening notes.  
  
_These bags are carry on,_  
and filled with many things  
like song you taught me on rusty guitar strings   
and buried deep inside are the shirts off your back  
You gave me the meal and you only ate the snack   
You handed me more than I could ever pay back  
  
So hold on tight   
It’s up around the bend   
Before we arrive, let’s pretend   
that with all my might   
I’ll keep walls from caving in   
It’s now and always been   
through times thick and thin   
  
And when our day comes  
The stories we gave out  
On bets we made on cards that never fail  
And pennies we threw down empty wishing wells

 _So hold on tight_ _  
It’s up around the bend  
Before we arrive, let’s pretend   
that with all my might   
I’ll keep walls from caving in   
It’s now and always been   
through times thick and thin  
  
Hold on tight   
So hold on tight  
Hold on tight   
_  
He takes a shaky breath once the song finishes, and gently closes his eyes, soaking in the applause,  
  
He turns to glance at Eddie who’s furiously wiping tears from his eyes.   
  
_This is what healing feels like,_ he thinks.   
  
-  
  
Richie wrapped his arms tighter around Eddie’s waist, and pulled him closer.  
  
It was slowly but surely that Eddie more or less moved back into the room he used to share with Richie.   
  
Sleeping in the same bed with Eddie, waking up and seeing him sleeping peacefully, is more than enough for Richie.  Especially after the nights he spent being woken up by the smaller boy after he had a nightmare.   
  
He doesn’t mind being woken up in the middle of the night as much as he minds the terrified look in Eddie’s eyes. Like he never really made it out of Garrett’s apartment.  
  
It’s earlier in the morning than he usually wakes up, so he doesn’t move to get out of bed and start his morning. He’s further woken up by the high-pitched sound emitted from Eddie’s phone. He sighs and reaches over to cease the ringing.  
  
Eddie turns to face Richie and slowly opens his eyes, blinking lazily and smiling when he sees Richie.  
  
“Good morning, sunshine,” he murmurs.  
  
Eddie smiles brightly up at him.   
  
“You gonna come watch me play today?” he asks softly.  
  
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he assures.  
  
Eddie yawns and stretches, popping several joints as he does. He slips out of bed and gives Richie one more tired smile before he heads to the bathroom.  
  
He drifts in and out of sleep as he listens to Eddie get ready. He lets the faint sound of the music from Eddie’s ‘Volleyball’ playlist calm him into half consciousness. The next time he fully opens his eyes, Eddie’s wrestling a sports bra over his head, his spandex are pulled high in his hips. Richie smiles when he notices only one of Eddie’s volleyball socks are pulled up.  
  
He wolf whistles before leaning over and tugging up Eddie’s other sock.  
  
Eddie give him a fond smile before straightening out his sports bra.   
  
“I’ll be looking for you in the crowd,” he says softly.  
  
Richie gives him a huge goofy grin. “I’ll be there, cheering for you,” he promises.  
  
-  
  
Eddie looks near high off the adrenaline and victory.   
  
“I feel like I could run a marathon,” he raves.  
  
Richie chuckles. “You’d probably die, you played hard, Eds,” he praises.  
  
Eddie basks in his acknowledgment. “I’m gonna take a shower. Wanna watch a movie tonight?”  
  
“Course,” he replies, watching Eddie gather his a towel and change of clothes before scampering into the bathroom.  
  
Richie lounges on the bed in sweats and a baggy shirt, passing time by scrolling through twitter.   
  
He’s made aware of Eddie finishing his shower when the smaller boy flings the door open with only a pair of Richie’s boxers on and a towel over his shoulders.  
  
Richie does his best not to stare, but going by the smirk on Eddie’s face he’s not doing a great job.   
  
He doesn’t move or protest when Eddie shrugs the towel off and makes his way to the bed. Richie ties to control his breathing as Eddie boldly straddles his hips.  
  
“Hey, Richie?” he breathes.  
  
“Yeah?” he says softly.  
  
“Make love to me,” he requests, eyes soft and full of love.  
  
“You know I have to ask,” he says tentatively.  
  
Eddie gives him a small, sad smile. “I know. I promise I want this, I need this actually. I want to associate sex with feeling good again. I need to remember how much you fill me up, need to feel your hands on me,” he explains.  
  
Richie nods and cups Eddie’s cheeks with gentle hands before bringing him into a loving kiss. It’s not sloppy and desperate like the hate sex. No, it’s heavy and passionate. It’s love.  
  
“I trust you,” Eddie says breathlessly when the separate for air. “You take care of me.”  
  
“As long as you’ll let me,” he promises.  
  
“Through times thick and thin?” Eddie asks.  
  
“Through times thick and thin,” he confirms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, i know this ending may seem a bit rushed or even out of place, i def couldve gone more into depth w this au. but thats why im ending this story here, if i ever decide to revisit this au i can continue w a new fic. im just extremely unmotivated when it comes to this fic and i want to put it to rest so to speak.
> 
> to anyone that followed and encouraged me while i wrote this fic just know youre the reason i even finished it.


End file.
